


The Blood On Our Hands

by corinnemaree



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Doctor AU, Eventual Smut, F/M, Inspired by Kdrama, Slow Burn, Soldier AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:10:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 55,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnemaree/pseuds/corinnemaree
Summary: Owen is a soldier, the captain of Alpha Team. Claire is one of the leading surgeons at her hospital. When Fate pulls them together, it pulls them apart just as easily. But they never seem to drift very far.





	1. Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

> A new MAMMOTH of a fic heading you way! Glad to be back! Hope you guys missed me cause this is gonna be all I'll talk about for months and months on end! Thanks to the discord for encouraging. (This has been posted without a beta)

It had been a long time since Owen had seen stars like this; sparkling like fairy lights, hung in the sky just for that night. There was also little time to enjoy such things these days. He had one job - lead - and that was what they were there for. Alpha Team had been posted there for this mission specifically; they could get the work done that no one else could.

It was 0120. Winds were picking up - perfect conditions for hiding in tall grass. They were crawling on the ground, the base just a little ways out and their targets inside. Some of their own held hostage by a faction they had only encountered a few times before. Claymore. Andrew Claymore and his team of mercenaries. Guns for hire. Any government could have him for the right price. What they had done, however, was take two military officers and were threatening to kill if their demands were not met.

That’s where Alpha team came in. Claymore wasn’t insane - he was hungry for money. Owen had known him in his younger days, but this was new for Claymore - hostages were never his game, and now that he was surrounded, he was out of his element. Seeing as how Owen had dealings with Claymore, he and his team were sent to make sure the situation didn’t escalate. Standing beside his team, the current squad told to observe from a distance, they began to prepare.

Owen trusted his team with his life. Alec was his oldest friend, growing up together, sharing just about everything with each other. Unlike Owen, Alec was a master sergeant - an officer that held low rank, but was highly skilled. Barry Sembène, their third, was sergeant first class, similar rank to Alec, but he was an explosives expert, qualifying him for an alpha team position. He’d saved Owen’s ass more times than he’d like to remember - but Barry always remembered. Lowery was their lowest ranking team member, staff sergeant, but he was a tech wizz, so they brought him along - he was also one hell of a pick me up after harder combat missions. Their fifth member - another first class sergeant, was Cian O’Halligan. He was one of those Irish americans - the most irish name they had heard, but decided to call him by his codename, it was far easier. He was also their sniper, so they thought it best not to fuck up his name any time soon.

“Piccolo, get in position, I want you up there as soon as we start walking,” Owen said, and Cian nodded as he took his M40A6 rifle case, jogging back a distance. Cian was a tall guy, built for combat, but he preferred guns.

“Harry Potter, comms,” Owen said, as Lowery was already setting up his own laptop, scanning for any transmissions. He blocked all comms going in and out and nodded to Owen. Communication block out will take effect given Owen’s word. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Barry kneeling, night binoculars pressed to his eyes.

“Explosives, Snoopy.” Barry set up with the waiting scouts, watching and investing any faults in the ground in case of mines. He gave the all clear. Owen looked to Alec, both stripping from their bulletproof vests and handing their guns to Snoopy.

Owen made sure his comm was switched to his squad. “I want this clean. If you think you need to, you take your shot,” he said, two clicks on his comms came back, and he could tell Piccolo was setting up.

“Through anything or anyone,” Alec replied. Owen turned his comms to all, patching in his superiors back home.

“This is Big Boss. I’m going in with Wolf. Snoopy, Harry Potter and Piccolo are standing by,” he said, glancing to Alec as he took in a hard breath before letting it go and nodding.

“Get our men out of there, Captain,” replied the Commander over comms. Nodding to Lowery, the comms were shut off. Owen and Alec both raised their hands, walking slowly to the base - thick concrete walls with slits running along the side for eyes...or guns. They stopped when they heard the cocking of guns inside.

“This is Captain Grady! You have my men. I think it’s time to negotiate, don’t you?” he yelled, waiting for a short while before the door to the base was opened for them. Alec looked at Owen and shrugged, both walking closer until they were inside. Before they could even begin to examine their surroundings, the door was shut, and the pair knew they had to work fast before this got ugly.

Andrew Claymore was a pale American guy, blonde hair that had black paint or boot wax combed through it. Across his face running from the top of the right side of his forehead down to the left side of his chin was a scar, deep and nasty. Owen may or may not be responsible for that one. But Claymore had left his own scars on Owen. Claymore unsheathed his blade - standard Mtech MA1000B - before he furrowed his brow and smiled at Owen. “Claymore, good to see you again,” Owen greeted, hands still remaining in the air.

“Big Boss, I would say I missed you, but this is just unfortunate timing,” Claymore laughed, letting the knife rest close to the officers’ face. They were badly bruised, cuts on their faces and they looked exhausted.

Two officers, kneeling, his own.

Three men. One Claymore. Two unknown. Two of unknown skills. One, highly trained in one-on-one combat. Profiliant in firearms and other weaponry. Keep both away.

Rescue the two.

Two on three fight.

This is going to get ugly.

“You have my men,” Owen said, cockiness rolling his words. It wasn’t a question of if they’d get them back - but when. And Owen wanted them now.

“They won’t give up information,” Claymore shrugged before the three mercenaries took their line. It was combative.

“That’s policy, guys. We can’t have them spilling secrets,” Owen confirmed, letting his hands go down, relax for a moment.

“We’re not the enemy,” Claymore said, but the lie wasn’t coming off.

“I think you might be here,” Owen scoffed.

“Well, you know us...we rarely stay in one place.”

“I think we’re going to have to get our guys out,” Owen said once more, looking at the men who seemed more and more distressed. Claymore blocked them from view with his body, pointing his knife at Owen.

“I can’t do that,” he replied with a soft shrug. Owen narrowed his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking,” Owen said, his hand reaching for his knife. The blade was wide, flat and sharp. He swapped the knife from his right hand to his left, as Alec carefully watched and took out his own knife.

“I was told to take out a marine. It’s only fair,” Claymore remarked.

“I won’t let it be easy,” Owen said, gaining his stance, both marines mimicking each other and standing tall with narrowing shoulders; they were the most relaxed people in the room as the base filled with tension.

“Good,” Claymore smiled before lunging forward. The base became a mess; a fight breaking out and forcing the two injured officers to huddle in the corner, to watch what would become of all of this.

It was a rush of limbs, punches and kicks, knives just missing skin. Grazing each other. They were all built for combat - mostly in guns - but Owen and Alec were built machines. If anyone could do it, it was them. Owen’s blade met Claymore’s as Alec kicked into a man’s sternum, backing the other man up as much as possible as he swung his blade.

Alec was a tall, built guy, and he used it well, maneuvering himself down attacking a man’s leg, making him buckle. As the guy bent, Alec’s fist met the man’s throat and he choked into submission. Owen, on the other hand, sweeps Claymore’s legs out from under him, managing to grab the other man’s hand before he could attack Alec from behind, taking his arm and breaking it quickly. The snap breaks in his forearm, and as Owen flips the man over his shoulder, he hears the crack in his bicep.

Owen could feel the presence behind him, but doesn’t react fast enough. The loud clang of metal against each other makes Owen smile. Alec’s blade stops Claymore’s, and pushing his weight off, Alec granted distance between the two. Owen and Alec spun around, switching places and over Owen’s shoulder, he hears Alec roar, ramming the two men through the door. One man must have pressed something as an alarm started to blare around the base.

A red light started to flash, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. Footsteps hurry out. Hostages gone. Safe for now. The two men stand off, waiting for the other to falter. Owen slowly smirked, changing his knife from his left hand to his right. Claymore eyes the difference between the two sides and scoffs.

“Were you always right handed?”

Owen doesn’t answer. It was one more blaring noise from the alarm that set Claymore off. He lunged, blade missing but his knee driving home into Owen’s gut. Owen drove his elbow down into Claymore’s shoulder. Claymore tried to swing his blade towards Owen, but he caught the man’s wrist, twisting his arm down. Claymore flipped the blade in his hand, dragging his arm up as much as possible, loosening Owen’s grip and the blade trying to slice at his throat. Owen and Claymore wrestled with it until Owen threw his head against Claymore’s and both stumbled outside, knives clashing and missing until they were in close combat.

To gain the upper hand, Owen only saw one option. He brought the fight to its heated moment, Claymore switching his blade around and dragging it along Owen’s side as Owen managed to position his knife perfectly. Directly to Claymore’s throat. One more move, and Owen would slit his throat. Owen could feel the wound in his side, the sting in it, but he looked at the sweat beading on Claymore’s forehead.

“Stand down,” Owen ordered, his eyes flicking to the mercenaries, “or I’ll make sure they take every one of us out,” he said, the red dot focused on Claymore’s chest. It took Claymore one breath to drop his blade. Owen let his down.

“It was a pleasure, Grady,” Claymore raised his hands. The red dot on his chest moved and vanished from any person. There was no need to take him in - that wasn’t their mission and would require more than the mission parameters intended.

“Let’s not make it an annual event, Claymore,” Owen said, watching as the men walked off before running out of view and into the night. They weren’t being caught that night. Owen raised his thumb and a moment later, he heard his comms come back on. Putting his finger to his ear, Owen sighed. “This is Big Boss. Alpha team has completed the mission,” he said, breathing in the night air.

 

*

 

Owen and Alec hunched over the gun, their sights securely trained on their target. They both took shallow breaths before firing rapidly, their targets either hit or missed. The mini targets on the shooting gallery game; when Owen and Alec found it, they thought it was going to be easy. When the buzzer sounded for their time up, they found that they had some pretty pitiful scores.

“This is rigged,” Owen scoffed, looking down the barrel of the gun and grunting at the off placed sight. Alec showed his own, trying to aim at the targets again.

“The guns sights are all off, that’s just poor craftsmanship,” Alec responded, both nodding to the tired worker’s dismay. They had been trying to win a few stuffed animals for an hour, getting even more frustrated as time went on. They had found the little shooting gallery area was for kids, but they were basically grown babies - that’s what….someone used to say before things went sour.

Reloading the toy gun, round white pellets placed inside the barrels, the two men prepared for another round. Owen was settling his elbows down, eyes focusing down the barrel and aiming towards one of the targets when screeching roared down the street.

“Hey! He stole my bag! Help!” A woman yelled, before the distress echoed and more and more people became enraged. The soldiers peered out from the market-like shooting range and saw a guy in his twenties, thin but not unhealthy, but running as fast as his feet could take him. When he saw someone on a vespa, he knocked them off and stole their place. This guy was full of surprises, but he didn’t lack balls. Owen scoffed, whilst Alec huffed and moved into the street the thief was racing down.

“Oh, come on, we’re on vacation!” Owen called and Alec looked over to him.

“Shut up and shoot,” he said and Owen groaned. No matter rank, in public, they were the same - just two soldiers in the wrong place at the right time. “It’s a toy, so the aim is short,” Alec sounded, both men positioning the gun in their shoulders before gaining the distance they needed from it, “five meters?” he said and Owen nodded.

“Ten meters ahead,” he confirmed, both taking in their breaths, focusing on the man on the bike.

“Seven” Alec said, their stance echoing each other before the distance between them and the thief was what they needed.

“Now,” Owen said, almost in a whisper, and they fired. For all the games lost, they had played a part for the shooting range worker, their aim accurate and without fault. The pellets sprayed and wholloped the guy in the middle of the forehead. Though they wouldn’t have caused much of an impact, about as much pressure as being flicked in the forehead, it was enough to distract him. He collapsed back off the bike, the vehicle spinning before it rested and the guy groaning in pain. Putting the guns back where they found them, Owen went to the man’s side. Owen sighed as he looked at the guy - clutching onto his side, leg shivering and ankle seemed incapacitated.

Alec inspected the bike’s owner, helping him maintain the bike and check if there were any injuries to speak of. He seemed to be having an easier time than Owen. Although everyone in the marines had med training - Owen was good with first aid - but Alec was better. Getting the gathering crowd to find any wood planks or cloth, he began performing sturdy first aid techniques on the man’s ankle and looked over at the man - who was most decidedly a young man, probably just hitting his twenties or a little older.

“Leave it alone, it doesn’t hurt,” he tried, but Owen flicked in him the forehead again. He collapsed back down and groaned, clutching at his ribs. Owen sighed.

“Just lie down, if you move you could damage your spine,” he said, and the guy picked up his hood, covering his face as people started to film his newly injured state. Owen laughed, turning back towards the employee that must hate him by now, “hey let me buy those stuffed animals. And do you have a pen I could borrow?” Owen asked, the shooting range employee looked stunned before stumbling back and checking for soft stuffed animals and searching himself for a pen.

Alec came and assisted, taking the young man’s belt and gathering the stuffed animals around his neck, strapping everything in securely. Owen took the pen and started to write down the instructions on the thief’s arm. He groaned, trying to pull his arm away but Owen hissed, writing quickly as the paramedics arrived and observed the situation. The two soldiers stood and explained the situation and helped them prepare the young man in the back of the ambulance. Neither of them thought much of it.

 

*

 

Sitting in the coffee shop, their coffees gone, and staring out onto the busy street outside. Next to Alec sat a large white bunny stuffed animal. He looked down at it as yet another group of women left the cafe laughing at them both. Oh yes, them both - because next to Owen sat a large brown cat in a similar design and make to Alec’s.

“Your girlfriend is really pretty,” Owen pointed to the bunny. Alec huffed, a smile on his face.

“I feel like I’ve met the girl of my dreams. You guys look great together,” he said, regarding Owen’s stuffed animal. Owen huffed, slinging his arm over the head of the animal.

“This is my comrade, Jeez,” he said, cursing Alec slightly. “Did you really have to accept these as gifts,” Owen said, leaning into Alec. Gritting his teeth, he replied angrily in a whisper.

“How could I not when he was begging for us not to come back.” Owen groaned, covering his eyes.

“I wonder how you can be such a softie and yet….so deadly all rolled into one big….stupid man,” he said and laughed slightly, watching as the squared jaw of his partner in crime tightened and set firmly. Owen knew Alec - better than most - and knew this look was bothersome. “You’re worried about him aren’t you? Reminds you of yourself right? Back when you were young,” he asked and Alec nodded. The life of Alec Warren was complicated and long, even in his thirties, he lived more of a life than most troops they ordered around. Gang affiliations, abusive family, arrested multiple times and scars that were made years before his time as a soldier. Alec had so much to tell, and such a wall, it was impossible to get everything in one go.

Owen’s phone began ringing and he pulled it from his pocket, looking at the name and swallowing hard. “Is it from a troop?” Alec asked. Owen nodded, biting at his lip and trying to stop himself from laughing.

“Yeah...a troop indeed,” Owen scoffed, turning his phone around for Alec to see who is calling, “but not ours,” Owen said with a smirk. Zara Young. Calling Owen of all people was rare, and everyone knew why she was calling him.

“Don’t answer it,” Alec gritted his teeth again, almost reaching for the phone before Owen pulled it towards his chest.

“I’m going to answer it, and I’m going to get her to come here and finally talk to each other,” he said before Alec’s eyes went wide and he instinctively reached forward.

“I’ll buy you a fancy steak dinner,” he bargained.

“I can do that myself,” Owen shrugged.

“Seventeen year old whiskey?”

“Adolescent.”

“I’ll let you meet my cousin. She’s a flight attendant and has pretty flight attendant friends,” Alec blurted and Owen’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ve been keeping this from me? Really?” he asked, relaxing his hand. Owen handed over his phone and Alec sighed, declining the call quickly. Owen urged for Alec to hand over his own phone, fingers eager to see the women. “Your phone, I gotta see this,”  he said. Alec started to run hands over himself, rushing from one place to another, digging and fretting. Owen’s eyes narrowed.

“I can’t -” Alec stopped his sentenced and shut his eyes. They both looked at one another, realising what had happened. They completely missed it. He was a thief and they completely fucking missed him doing something so simple as stealing a fucking phone?

“Are you saying you got pickpocketed by the guy we stopped?” Owen asked, grabbing his stuffed animal as Alec’s hand tightened on his.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he said, voice rough and demanding; he meant what he said. “Let’s go, what hospital was it?” he asked, already heading for Owen’s car.  
  


*~*~*

 

Claire blew the fallen hair from her eyes, the strands of her fringe staying just out of her eyes. God she needed a haircut. The new call was coming in - motorcycle accident. Needed some concentration. It wasn’t a chaotic day, just busy, but it had kept Claire on her toes - just how she liked it. The paramedics rolled him in, the nurses chuckling to Claire’s curiosity. Looking at her patient to be, he was a young man with makeshift first aid done to him; including that of teddy-bears strapped to either side of his head to act as a neck brace. Going tight lipped, she watched them wheel him inside as Zia talked with a paramedic. He handed her a phone, only for it to ring a moment later.

“Hello?” Zia answered, and Claire brow furrowed. “Oh no, the owner of this phone is at Jacksonville Memorial Hospital. I’m his nur-” she stopped short and looked at Claire. “Well that was rude,” she regarded and Claire smiled to the nurse.

“Maybe they wanted to talk to him,” Claire said, rounding the corner with Zia.

“Maybe,” she shrugged, handing the phone back to the patient. He groaned, trying to hide himself away. Claire looked over at her sister and they both shook their heads.

“He was in the motorcycle accident,” Karen confirmed. Claire nodded, looking down at the young man and chuckling to herself. When Karen had gone into nursing, Claire followed with being a doctor. Karen liked the hands on stuff - taking care of the patient, caring for them personally. Claire liked the blood of it all - searching for the problem and fixing it. She liked surgery. She was one hell of a surgeon. But she also wanted more. But for now, it was the Dearing sisters in the ER together.

“And look, a chart already done for me,” Claire said, raising the young man’s arm, to which he pulled away. “Who wrote this?” she asked.

“The guy that did this to me,” he groaned, looking at Zia and Karen, “get me out of this.”

“I will, but don’t move,” Claire ordered, looking to Karen, “switch them out with ours,” Karen and Zia both moved and gathered what they needed. Claire was left alone with him for just a moment. “Whoever did this, did an amazing job of treating you,” she regarded, inspecting him over with a glance before she read the young man’s arm.

Claire chewed on her lip, the young man still seeming uncomfortable with her presence. “Possible fractured ribs,” she said, her finger jabbing into his side, to which he recoiled and groaned once more. “Definite fractured ribs,” she confirmed before touching his ankle.  “ankle...ankle sprain,” she said and he looked at her offended curious. “Are you a thief?” she finally asked.

“What?” he replied. Claire lifted up his arm, probably the first time he was able to read it.

“It says right here, ‘he is a thief, treat him as painfully as possible’.” Claire raised her brow, challenging him to say otherwise. Pulling his arm away and hiding it from her.

“I’m a victim here,” he glared. Karen and Zia came back, in Karen’s hand a neck brace to replace the bears, and Zia with a smile on her face.

“I’ll order an x-ray so I can make sure his ribs are broken and ankle is fine,” Claire said and Karen nodded. Zia caught Claire’s arm and whispered to her.

“Chief of Surgery, Doctor Wu, wants to see you, Doctor,” Zia said and Claire took in a tight breath.

“I’ll be right back, let me know when the results come in,” she called out, tucking her hands into her coat pockets and walking briskly down the corridors, winding her way through the hospital to find Henry Wu at the other end.

 

*

 

Claire stood across from Doctor Wu, one of the leading research professors at the hospital. Throughout the last few months, Claire had been helping Wu with his thesis paper - to which many others had received high recommendations for their own research positions. Although Claire loved being a surgeon - the thrill of it all - she wanted to walk instead of running. “I finished organising your thesis research paper,” she said, as Henry smiled.

“You worked hard. Was it any help to your studies?” he asked and Claire nodded.

“Yes, it helped quite a lot. Thank you for this opportunity,” she replied, hands behind her back, fingers digging into her opposite palm. If he liked her work, he’d recommend her for the position and she might finally get it. Henry nodded as he went over the paper, a small crawl of a smile falling on his lips as he noticed the small details Claire added.

“You did an amazing job with the charts,” he complimented and Claire took in a breath as she felt her chest grow tight. “You only have the interview portion left in your way to becoming a professor, right?” he asked, looking up at her and Claire nodded eagerly.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to..” she stopped herself from talking as she noticed her patient hobbling out of the emergency room and walking towards the parking lot. Claire’s brow furrowed as she watched him walk off with his shoes in hand. Henry looked over his shoulder, seeing the patient walk away. “Ah, sorry! A patient of mine is running away, I have to…” she said, already starting to walk away from Henry’s side.

“Is he running away without being treated?” he asked.

“Yes, I have to go,” she said before jetting off down the hall.

“Good luck, doctor!” he called after her. Claire waved over her shoulder before sprinting down to the parking lot. He groaned and tried to get away some more, but Claire’ harsh glare and push into the wheelchair forced him to stay seated and infuriated.

Wheeling him back to his bed, Zia and Karen stood next to each other, confused as they held onto the splint materials he had removed from his ankle. Spotting Claire, they both let out a sigh of relief.

“God, I really have to go! If I’m here, bad things are gonna happen and you seem like nice people,” he barked, crossing his arms and remaining in the chair despite Karen wanting to get him up. She looked at Claire.

“He must have -“

“It’s a miracle I caught him, don’t worry. But make sure he doesn’t leave this bed,” Claire said, nudging him in the back to get him moving. He looked over his shoulder and Claire challenged him to say something. He stood, turning back to her.

“If those guys catch me, I will be sent to the morgue,” he said before trying to step closer to Claire, almost a threat but failed due to the awkward pressure on his ankle, “anyway, you can’t keep me here! What right do you have?” he asked.

“It’s not our right, it’s our duty. Get back into bed and get ready for your scans,”

“Ah fine,” he scoffed, trying to edge past Claire. She managed to get in his path.

“Your bed is that way!” she order, pointing to the bed over his shoulder. He pointed directly over Claire’s.

“I’m going to the bathroom!”

“How am I meant to know that?” she asked, crossing her arms. He huffed, taking her hand and placing a phone in her palm.

“Here. Take my phone. Keep it so you know I’m coming back. Okay?” he stared for a moment before Claire let him pass to the bathroom.

“Fine, let him go,” she sighed, watching as he passed through the bathroom doors. A moment later, his phone started to ring, the name on the phone shining, making Claire scoff. “Big boss? What a joke! You see, immature people like this need to go to bootcamp or the military or something.”

 

*~*~*

 

Owen and Alec parked the car in the parking lot, quickly hurrying into the emergency room, wandering around and dialling Alec’s number as much as possible. Emerging from the car, Owen and Alec looked at the group of young men, searching and scouring the area, looking for something other than a typical hospital parking lot.

“If that was why we were searching for the funeral homes, I’m gonna send you there myself,” Owen smirked and Alec sighed, following Owen’s lead as they wandered into the ER. Being forced to the side by an oncoming gurney, Owen decided to call the number again, wondering if they’d hear it ring from inside the ER. To their surprise, a phone started to ring nearby. The red haired doctor was stitching up a patient’s arm, telling the nurse next to her to gather some equipment. After the call rang unanswered, Owen tried once more to find a doctor reach into her pocket, sighing as she answered.

“Hello?” her voice rang in front of him and his ear. Owen smiled.

“Hello,” he replied, and she must have heard the echo as well, as she turned to him. She stood. Owen swallowed, the button nose and freckles littering her face - he had to admit he wasn’t expecting her.

“Big Boss, I’m guessing?” she asked and straightened out his shoulders.

“The very same, but why do you have our phone?” he asked quickly.

“Why are you here?” she asked, but looked at the tray in front of her with the stitching materials on it. Putting on her gloves, she seemed distracted.

“The phone. You see the guy that gave it to you actually -”

“You don’t feel anything in your arm right? I can continue stitching?” she asked her patient. He nodded nervously. Before she could, she looked over to the other side of the room, staring at an empty bed. “Where is the accident patient?” she said to the nurse who stammered before coming to a small realisation.

“I think he’s gone for scans, Doctor,” the nurse said before Owen stepped into the spot she was occupying. She scoffed but Owen raised his hands in defence.

“Excuse me, nurse?” he said to the doctor, who turned, brow furrowed deep and unpleasant. It oddly made him smile.

“Doctor. I didn’t get this stupid coat to be called nurse by a condescending ass,” she corrected, the tightness in her brow growing.

“You have our phone, I just want it back,” he asked, hand extended before she stepped back from him.

“Were you the ones that were gonna send him to the morgue?” she asked, and Owen looked back at Alec who rolled his eyes. “Nurse Rodriguez, can you please get security to escort these men out of my ER?” she asked, eyes narrowed on Owen and Alec. The nurse pushed them aside, slowly taking the partition across. Owen managed to get the final glimpse of the feisty doctor, hair like sun rays and spirit like fire. She was...intense.

“You knew she was gonna get mad the moment you called her nurse, didn’t you?” Alec said, smacking Owen’s shoulder.

“I liked seeing her eyebrows crinkle,” he said, the words slipping from his lips.

“Come on, you gross puppy,” Alec said, grabbing the back of Owen’s bomber jacket and dragging him away from the doctor. Owen groaned.

“Aw, come on, let me stay,” he pouted before returning to Alec’s side, slowly walking beside his closest friend.

 

*~*~*

 

Zia stood by the patients side, attention elsewhere. Claire concentrated on the stitches, one after the other, easily flowing in and out as the needle took its place in the skin and guided each stitch into place. Finally, Claire’s mind skipped to the thought - the one she had been avoiding for a few moments. She knew he wasn’t there anymore, but it still felt like he was nearby. Big Boss had a nice smile. He had a _cocky_ smile. But it was nice to look at. He was built and obviously strong, his bomber jacket and white shirt clung to him, defining his physic. Claire shook her head, just catching Zia’s sentence.

“I mean, they could be thugs? Did you see the size of that one dudes arms?” she asked and Claire scoffed under her breath. “His name was Big Boss, so the other guy is second in command, it follows logically,” she said, folding her arms. Claire continued to guide the stitches.

“Don’t worry, I’m better with a knife anyway,” Claire said, noticing the nervousness that set into her patient and it oddly made her smile. Claire had only known to be threatening in some circles. Maybe she was tougher than she realised.

 

*~*~*

 

Owen walked beside Alec, his master sergeant letting his attention snap back and forth as he walked, hands in his jeans and Owen groaning as they rounded another corner around the hospital. “Do you know where you’re going?”

Alec nodded, “I think I do, I saw that gang earlier -” His sentence was cut short when they heard the definite sound of a fist against skin. Down a small incline, a back entrance for janitors and other staff, grouped the young men they saw earlier, crowding around the thief and another young man. The two knelt as they were repeatedly hit in the face. Owen saw the way the young man took his beating - he was able to get out of the position, and Owen was sure the young man was aware of it. Alec stepped forward and Owen caught hold of his leather jacket. Alec turned to Owen, the furrow in his brow deep.

“Hey! Do you really have to get your phone back? They look like they could kick my ass,” Owen said, adjusting his bomber jacket. Owen knew he was older than all the guys there, very easily could get beat up by a bunch of young guys with the ambition to do so.

“First of all, you’re a captain of a marine’s squadron. Second, I have a reason to get that phone back,” Alec said, his shoulders straightening and Owen knew exactly what it meant. Conviction in the highest order. Owen titled his head.

“Why? Do you have.... _pictures_ on there?” he asked, teasingly. Then, Alec answered with a straight face.

“Yes.”

“I’m getting that phone back first,” Owen said, and just as Alec was about to say something, Owen turned to called out to the group. “Hey! You guys! Cut it out,” he said, jogging down slightly, Alec trailing behind by just a step.

“Who the hell are you?” One of the men beating up the thief asked as Owen leant on one. Alec pushed through some of them.

“Just keep moving,” The one Owen was leaning on said.

“You don’t want to make this a funeral,” Another scoffed.

“We have business with him,” Alec said.

“Get in line,” The one acting as the leader said. Alec stood next to the thief who darted for Alec’s ankle, gripping onto it for dear life.

“Please save me,” he begged.

“Did you steal these guys’ phones too?” Owen smirked. Alec bent down to the boy’s level and Owen watched as Alec’s voice softened.

“Why are you letting them beat you?” he asked. Owen

“Please save me. I’ll get your phone back,” he replied, the fear in his words were enough for both men to know that this wasn’t just an ordinary event.

“Rick was just trying to leave the gang, but they wanted him to pay up,” The other boy interrupted and Owen went over to Alec’s side as the boy whispered his answer. “Five thousand dollars.” Owen took a sharp breath in as he turned to Alec. He shook his head.

“Prices are going up,” he replied, shrugging at the amount. Owen didn’t know anything about these kinds of dealings, but Alec was holding his ground like no one he’d ever seen. Despite their ranks, Alec was like a captain - the discipline and drive like Owen in his younger years.

“There’s nothing to get from that rat anyway, shall we get it from you instead?” The leader asked.

“Good idea, deal with me,” Alec said suddenly. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans. “You solve a money problem with money,” he said before retrieving his wallet, “take this wallet from me and you can have everything inside. That is, if you can get it,” he challenged and Owen leaned into Alec’s ear.

“What are you doing, man?”

“You stay out of this,” he warned and Owen shrugged. Alec looked down at the boy, “I’m his brother,” he said to everyone’s surprise before said something that made Owen chew the inside of his cheek. “What’s your name?”

“Rickard Dunn,” The boy answered. Alec looked up at the group crowding them.

“I’m Rickard D- Rickard?” he stuttered, looking back at Rickard.

“It’s a family name,” he said.

“I’m Rick’s older brother,” Alec said, waving his wallet. Owen took two steps back. “Take this wallet and I’ll pay his debt,” he said once more. Two men stepped forward, one taking out a butterfly knife, flicking it open as the other took out another blade. Owen folded his arms as one decided to attack first.

Alec was quick with moving back his shoulder, foot sliding along the pavement, the other man going for the other shoulder. As he moved his foot back, Alec took the other man’s wrist, held it in place as his wallet smacked the side of the man’s ear. As he groaned, letting his guard down, Alec grabbed the other man’s arm and did the same. Both men came back, swinging the blades back to Alec, just missing the soldier as he ducked down and brought his wallet back against the man’s face. Taking the wrist of one of the men that attacked him, the other trying to slash across the two men, Alec ceased the other man’s arm over his friends before pulling the man’s arm back, knife pointed towards himself. Both men dropped their knives just as Alec went full force, wholloping both men in the side of the head repeatedly with his wallet and both men fell to the floor.

“That was fun!” Owen called out, clapping at the achievement before bending down and picking up one of the butterfly knives. “You guys actually carry knives with you?” he asked, the eight other young men more tense than they were before. Their friends still down for the count, tending to their small injuries of sprained wrists and throbbing heads. “This gang is useless. Wanna break it apart?” he asked.

“Sure,” Alec shrugged.

“Anyone with knives or guns better get them out now,” Owen asked, the eight young men remaining pulling out knives, flipping them open and readying them for a fight. Each boy looked eager and challenge ready. Owen swallowed the cockiness he was once feeling and faked a smile as Alec put away his wallet and rubbed at his brow.

“You just had to say something, didn’t you?” Alec spat at Owen, who was taking a step behind his best friend.

“At least they don’t have guns,” he grinned, and the fight started quickly.

  


*~*~*

 

Claire stretched out her shoulders as she rounded a corner. A doctor called her name, asking for her opinion on an x ray, as it appeared to have fluid buildup in the lung. Putting it up to the light, she inspected it for a moment before confirming his original opinion. They gave each other soft, sad smiles - news and possibly bad is never easy to give. She felt for him. Turning around, Claire ran straight into Zia, who apologised before grinning too wide for Claire’s liking.

“He’s run away again hasn’t he?” she sighed and Zia nodded slowly, teeth bared with a false smile.

“Yeah,” she said, elongating the word to provide less pain, - it didn’t work. “But his guardian is here,” she said and Claire looked over Zia’s shoulder. With her back to Claire, she saw the military uniform, a woman’s build and impatient way of her. Claire had only dealt with a few military personnel in Jacksonville, but she suspected she’d be meeting more as her time in the city lasted.

Making her way to the bedside of the missing patient, Claire walked slower as the guardian came into view. It couldn’t be, could it? “Zara Young?” Claire asked, just as the similar face turned.

“Claire Dearing?” she asked, her British accent still stronger than ever and still felt condescending.

“Are you his guardian? You’re the one that called?” Claire asked, Zara’s arms crossing in front of her chest. The military uniform fit her nicely. Why did she have to look gorgeous all the time, it made Claire feel so out of place - like she was back doing her stupid internship all over again.

“Are you the doctor in charge on his case? Where is he? Let me see the chart,” Zara requested, proud and unmoving. Damn. Just like that internship.

“This isn’t your hospital, and he isn’t your patient,” Claire remained firm and Zara raised a brow in surprise.

“I have no time for games, Claire, I’d like to see his chart,” she said, stern as ever, “he’s important to me.”

“Important?” Claire tried to clarify, but Zara moved on.

“Is he hurt a lot?” she asked before her brow furrowed. “How do you not know where your patient is? Did he run away?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. Whoever he is, and whatever he is to you, he ran off without paying his bill,” she said, and Zara looked more confused than before, “seeing as how you’re here. You can pay for him,” Claire confirmed looking back at Zia. “Get security to look around the hospital and make sure she doesn’t leave without paying,” Claire huffed, turning on her heels.

“How can you just leave like that?” Zara spat and Claire shrugged.

“Very easily,” she said continuing on, hands in her pockets and heading up to the research offices a few floors above. Claire’s afternoon was gone, her day filled with patient after patient and one patient with a story that just wouldn’t end.

 

*

 

The door to Vivian’s office slammed, making the skinny woman jump in her chair. Claire walked over to the opposite chair to her and sat down. “Zara is here,” she announced and Vivian narrowed her eyes.

“Zara? Zara Young?” she asked.

“Yes!” Claire shouted, louder than she meant to.

“Didn’t she -”

“Yes! We don’t need to talk about it,” Claire waved it off, not able to get over her fuming rage. “God, she’s always had it out for me ever since we were on the same internship together. Just because she’s a military doctor doesn’t mean she’s better than us,” Claire scoffed, before putting her head down on Vivian’s desk. Although they may not be the closest friends, Claire adored the company of Vivian - she was always so relaxing and easy to talk to. Ever since med school, they were friends, and it helped that Vivian knew everyone Claire knew.

“Why is she here anyway?” Vivian asked. Claire raised her chin on the desk, scoffing at the thought of it.

“Her _boyfriend_ got hurt,” Claire said before sitting up straight again, the anger in her burning once more. “He’s barely out of his teens and she’s going out with him. It’s ridiculous,” she huffed, slouching in her chair as Vivian looked confused.

“What are you talking about? Her boyfriend is a soldier. Like the same age as her,” Vivian nodded, as though she was trying to remember correctly.

“No way. He was like a guy just out of college with his hair a little shaggy,” Claire tried to describe but Vivian shook her head.

“Nope. He’s a soldier. Everyone knows about them. He’s a soldier for sure,” she confirmed.

“Well maybe it is him,” Claire shrugged.

“He’s got some high rank thingy. Like, not too high but higher than what a twenty year old could get,”

“Why do you know all this?” Claire scoffed, laughing a little as Vivian leaned forward on her desk.

“He’s a master sergeant or something, but he’s got no college education, so he can’t rise any higher. Hence why her dad -”

“Ugh,” Claire rolled her eyes. One encounter with that man was enough.

“Yeah. Zara graduated top of her class, has dual citizenship, graduated top of her class at the military academy and is a military doctor. There was no way her father - a General with three stars to his name - was going to let them be together,” she explained and Claire hummed at the thought.

“I didn’t know that,” Claire nodded, taking all the information in before scowling at the realisation; “then who is the guy that gave me his phone and ran away?”

 

*~*~*

 

Alec had very little experience in unexpected moments. He could always anticipate what was around the corner, what his next step might entail. He had to be guilt for uncertainties in the field. This was civilian life. This was where certainty was obligatory for him. Until that minute. That second. With Zara looking at him, hair pulled back, her cap in her hand scrunched up angrily as he stood with Rick dangling from one shoulder as Owen carried the rest of the slack.

She looked better with her hair down.

Alec’s jaw tightened.

Two nurses came rushing over.

“What happened to him?” One asked, her hair a diluted red, but her questions soon became directed to Owen. “Nurse Rodriguez, call for Doctor Dearing,” she said, and Owen kept his grip on Rick.

“I’ll help,” he said, allowing Alec to let the boy loose. “There was an incident outside,” Owen explained as they walked down the hall. Alec stayed frozen. Why was she here? She stepped in towards him, her boots making an echoing noise through the hall. Or maybe it was just how he heard it. He could only see her.

He missed her so much.

“What happened?” she asked, voice like honey and pulling at his heart. He hated it. “I heard you were hurt, but you look just fine,” she said, but Alec remained silent. Then, there was a spitefulness in her eyes that made Alec feel restless. “Follow me,” she ordered. And he had to follow. Alec sighed, his breath shaking, and eyes felt like they were stinging.

Months of silence.

He had endured it.

Seeing her was hell.

 

*~*~*

 

Claire almost ran down to the ER and was met with a sight she could never possibly imagined. The boy from earlier, gorgeous young face, was now battered to the point of blood seeping from a wound on his cheek, his left eye completely swollen and bruises, and his lips twice the size they were this morning. Restraining a gasp, Claire went to the boy’s side, noticing that Big Boss was still standing nearby, just watching the nurses go to work. “What the hell happened?” she asked.

“There was an incident. Something near the hospital,” Big Boss said, playing with some tape he found. Claire snatched it from his hands.

“He looks like he was beat up,” she said, hands on her hips, “did you have something to do with this?”

Big Boss scoffed, “I helped the poor kid.”

Claire scowled, leaning down to the patient. “Did he do this to you?”

“No, he didn’t, he saved me,” the patient groaned. Claire looked over her shoulder, watching Big Boss smirk and tried once more.

“You’re in the hospital, it’s okay to tell me. Did this man hurt you?”

“I told you! He didn’t hurt me. He helped me,” he said, his face continuing to get disinfected by Karen and Zia. Big Boss slide down onto the side of the bed, edging his way away from the patient, but made sure he got Claire’s attention. It was unfair how captivating his smile was.

“You’re not gonna believe this kid, are you?” he asked, tilting his head. Claire swallowed the small amount of desire that built as he looked at her.

“I’m going to start him on a morphine drip, and can we get x rays done? I need to make sure there’s no other bones we need to be worried about,” Claire said clearing her throat before looking to Karen, about to say something when her sister interrupted the thought.

“I’ll take care of it, Doctor Dearing,” Karen said, the look on her face was one that Claire knew all too well of her sister. Claire huffed, looking towards Zia.

“Nurse Rodriguez, can you make sure to call security to see if there is any CCTV, I’m going to call the police,” Claire said, walking away and going towards the lobby of the hospital.

“Hey! Wait!” Big Boss called out, the opposite of what Claire wanted.

Managing to get quite the distance from him, Claire got the phone from earlier out of her pocket. It wasn’t much longer before Big Boss grabbed her arm, keeping her from dialing any number and keeping her in place. He stood in front of her, blocking any path she may take outside.

“You need to move,” she order, impatient.

“I will once I clear up this misunderstanding,” he said, laughing slightly as he took a breath and put his hands on his hips, “the kid told you the truth,” he started.

“Is my patient your kid?” she asked, and he reacted like she had offended his mother.

“What?” Owen scoffed. “You patient stole my coworkers phone. We need it back,” he explained, “we found him being beat up by a gang just outside the hospital. So, we saved him.” With that confident smile and cocky twinkle in his eye, Claire rolled hers.

“You saved the kid that stole your phone?” she exclaimed. He nodded. “You really expect me to believe that?” she said, dialing 911 and waiting for the answer. “Hello, can I get -” started before the man leaned forward briefly and before she could react, he had nudge the bottom of the phone out of her hand, the phone spinning. He leaned over her so more, catching the phone before it fell on the ground. He was calm throughout the entire thing, looking at the screen and hanging up. Claire was going to say something, but everything became incoherent and she was unable to speak.

“Let me be a little more straightforward,” he said, tucking away the phone, “you can’t call the police,” he smiled.

“Why is that?” Claire crossed her arms.

“We’re soldiers, we’re on vacation. If we get called into the police, it means more paperwork. I hate paperwork,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

“Am I really meant to believe you’re a soldier?” she asked and he nodded, pulling out dog tags from around his neck.

“I got these, to prove myself,” he said and Claire scoffed.

“Any man can get those. You’re not special.”

“Did you happen to know Zara Young?” he asked, and Claire must have let it show, because he smiled again, “if you’re working here, you must have gone to the same school or something like that,” he said.

“How do you know her?” she started before a thought crossed her mind. “Is that...are you the general sergeant person thing?”

“Master Sergeant,” he corrected.

“That’s it. Are you him?” she asked. He laughed, knuckles to his lips.

“I’m not him, but come with me,” he said, “Zara will confirm our identity.”

 

*~*~*

 

Alec stood in front of Zara, the gorgeous raven hair that had come loose from her ponytail made him want to reach out and tuck the strands behind her ear. He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t. He swallowed as they remained silent, only for Zara to pick up her chin, readying to speak.

“It’s been a long time,” she noted. Alec nodded.

“Yes, it has.”

“You’ve done a fine job of hiding from me,” she remarked, clearing her throat. “You look well.”

“Yes. Thank you,” he replied. Zara huffed impatiently. He understood the frustration - he knew it better than she did, but he could never tell her what he yearned for.

“Can we just talk without thinking of ranks?” she said, her voice strangled and anxious. “Maybe you’d totally ignore me if I had no rank,” she said, resentful of his tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed painfully.

“I want to strangle you!” she raged, hands binding tighter than before. “How much longer are you going to ignore me?” she asked, pleading him for an answer. He remained silent, jaw set tight. “Are you just going to die and let me think you’re living still?” she asked. Silence was his answer. “Answer me,” she said. Then, she softened and Alec’s heart felt weak.  “I don’t...I don’t want the answer, I just want to hear your voice,” she asked. Alec swallowed the lump in his throat.

“My answer isn’t what you think it is,” he started. “I had a change of heart, First Lieutenant Young,” he explained, and he saw Zara’s bottom lip tremble. “I’m not good with explaining myself. That’s all I have to say,” he said, turning on his heels and walking down the corridor.

“Don’t you dare. Stop there,” she demanded. She tried again, but he wasn’t going to turn this time. Until... “Master Sergeant Warren,” she ordered. And he had to stop. Swallowing hard, he heard her say “you didn’t salute your senior.”

Alec turned around, shoulders straight and chest puffed, his arm raised to his forehead. His salute was strong and focused. For the life of him, he would never drop his arm, and Zara stared him down. Walking over to him, she got a perfect distance before scowling deep and hard at him. Her bottom lip still trembled, but anger replaced the desperation in her eyes.

“Stand right there. Stand there all night. Stand like that until you die, I will never take your salute,” she ordered. And he was going to comply.

“Hey,” Owen said, lowering Alec’s arm and confronting Zara. She backed down. “This is abuse, Young, and you know it,” he told her, one of the only times he was stern.

“I am trying to train a soldier with weak mental strength,” she scowled. “What brought you here?”

“I need you to verify our identification,” he said, pointing to the red headed doctor.

“She won’t believe me,” Zara cleared her throat.

“It’s easier to trust an acquaintance than a stranger,” the doctor interrupted.

“Then call the police. These two men are deserters,” Zara spat, turning around and walking away.

“Oi! Young!” Owen cursed. Alec took a deep breath, turning to the doctor.

“Can I please have my phone back?” he asked. She nodded.

“You’re okay. I believe you now,” she said, looking at Owen. He smiled, handing over Alec’s phone.

“I still need whatever is on this phone,” he smirked.

“I’m going home,” Alec replied - he didn’t feel tired, more so downtrodden. He wanted to drink.

“Not you,” the doctor said quickly, pointing to Owen. “I still need to make sure your story outside the hospital,” she said, hands in her pockets, “come with me.” Owen turned to Alec briefly, smiling mischievously and Alec rolled his eyes.

 

*~*~*

 

Claire and Big Boss walked side by side as the security guy took them to the control room. “It’ll be just a few moments to find the footage,” he said, and Claire politely smiled.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning against the wall, hands resting on the railing. Big Boss paced around, hands hidden in his pockets as he waited. Eventually he took a place beside Claire, hand resting on the railing - fingers over her own before they both pulled away. Claire crossed her arms, trying to find comfort in herself.

There was still a lingering silence, neither of them wanting to speak, but Claire’s curiosity was always able to get the better of her - especially when it came to Zara. “How do you know Zara?” Claire asked and Big Boss looked to her, a small edging of a smile appearing on his lips as he turned, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“Zara was one of my troops in the academy. A year or so younger, so I trained her a lot,” he explained, tilting his head. “Why do you still need to know after she verified everything. I’m not good at lying,” he said, and Claire couldn’t help but feel the confidence flittering off of him - he was charismatic and gorgeous and he knew it, but there was part of him that didn’t come off as cocky in that moment. Just curious.

“Killers are usually charming,” she said, lifting her chin.

“That is true,” he replied, and Claire looked back at him, brow furrowed.

“Your seriousness is frightening, and we’re the only two here,”

“It’s a joke,” he laughed, raising his brow as he laughed. “I make it a rule to protect beautiful woman, seniors and children,” he said, nodding.

“Glad I fit into one of those categories,” she replied.

“I don’t think you are,” he said, a pout on his lips - he was right, he wasn’t good at lying.

“I’m your senior!” she replied quickly and he laughed at her stubborn reply. Claire couldn’t help but smile this time. She turned to him, his head ducked down as he scratched the back of his neck. “Big Boss, what’s your name?” she asked. He looked up, and for once, she thought she saw a genuine smile from him.

“Owen Grady. And you?” he asked.

“Claire Dearing,” she replied. Owen extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. Claire scoffed.

“Don’t act friendly.” She knew herself better than this - she knew, the minute she let herself, she’d start falling for this charming guy, without meaning to and it’d be all downhill from there. Hopefully he did kick this kids ass so she could be rid of him.

Inside the security control room, the tape started to play, faster than actual events, and before she knew it, Claire was gasping in surprise. Utter chaos had erupted, when the knife welding came at them, the men ducked, kicking out ankles and sprinting to get a better vantage point. Eventually, they split, punching men and kicking at them when they got too close.

“Oh my god!” Claire exclaimed, hands clasping over her mouth. “Did you really just -” she said pointing to Owen as she watches him driving himself into a tackle against two men and knock them to the ground. “Oh god,” she grimaced before she sees him use one as a seat whilst easily taking on another two. Kicking one in the stomach, Owen stood, pushing him in the shoulder and knocking the man down. “Look at him go down! He was _not_ expecting that,” Claire chuckled, watching as the events unfolded and they helped her patient to his feet, carrying him back to the hospital.

Looking back at him, Claire couldn’t stop her cheeks feeling warm and her stomach a mixing feeling of chaotic emotions. Leaving the security room, they had a few moments alone. The night was firmly set in They walked the empty hallways, without saying much, but still laughing about the events of the day.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” Claire finally apologised, chuckling softly as she tried to make herself look less ridiculous. Owen stopped, hands tucked into his pockets, he looked down at her.

“If you’re really sorry, I really do have somewhere that hurts, can you treat it?” he asked, and Claire had heard so many lines like this. God, she thought he may stop being an ass for one second, but he persisted. It may be part of his personality - the confidence to never let anything die and to be an ass whenever possible.

“Where is this?” she asked, clicking her tongue.

“Just here,” he said, pointing to his side. Claire smirked, reaching out.

“Here?” she said, poking at his side. He buckled, catching onto her arm as he hissed in pain repeatedly. “You exaggerate too much,” she laughed.

“I’m not exaggerating,” he groaned, lifting up his shirt to reveal a bandage that was now saturated with blood when it probably shouldn’t have been. Claire exclaimed and pulled Owen by the arm to have him treated. She’d be his doctor in charge, of course.

 

*

 

Claire got Owen to take some x rays, making sure there were no further injuries than just his side. He agreed and they were allowed privacy when Claire got him into an empty wing, and made sure she had him ready. On the bed, Claire got him to remove his jacket and shirt, but he refused to lie down. No matter what, he wanted to be able to see her - she hated that she blushed when he said it.

The exam rooms in the east wing were usually unattended at this hour, so their conversations were private and hidden from onlookers. Owen didn’t wince once, not when she put the needle in to numb the area, or when she started to stitch up the wound that had opened again in his fight. He watched, the eyes on Claire making her uncommonly nervous; he was a soldier, he was tough, but why did he look so softly at her?

“When did you get hurt?” she asked, looping the stitch through his skin and carefully pulling it through with tweezers. She was very precise about how she stitched such wounds. She’d use a staple on something like this, but because it was an active part of his body, she didn’t want to risk it. Twenty five stitches later, they were sitting there clearing up the wound.

“A few days ago,” he replied.

“What were you doing?” she asked, feeding another stitch through. Twenty six.

“Shoveling,” he said and Claire scoffed.

“Strange troop. You get shot whilst shoveling,” she said, pointing to the wound just above this fresh one. “That’s a bullet wound,” she replied.

“Have you seen gunshot wounds before?” he asked. Claire nodded.

“I see a few here, but I saw most of mine when I went to Africa as a case study,” she explained. Her case study in Africa was a changing experience, and she enjoyed it, but it also caused her nightmares from time to time when the raids started. She thought of it less than she once did.

“It is a bullet wound, by the way. I got it in one of the strangest places. But the bullets were coming down like rain. It was oddly beautiful,” he remarked and Claire giggled a little. “We were saving a comrade on enemy lines,” he explained, and Claire’s brow furrowed.

“This sounds familiar. Was he like _Private Ryan_?” she asked and he laughed, nodding slightly.

Beginning to bandage up the stitches, Claire went on about how he needed to disinfect it every few days, so the doctor at the base would need to look at it. When he replied that he wanted to come back here, nearly an hour out of his way, she wasn’t sure how to respond. He was very straightforward, his intentions clear; _I like you, Claire, and I want to see you._ Claire went tight lipped, continuing to treat him until he leaned into her.

“Being a doctor, you must not have a boyfriend. Since you’re too busy,” he said, not even asking. He was reading her like a damn book and with anyone else, she may have been nervous, but there was something in his eyes that made her feel confident.

“Being a soldier, you must not have a girlfriend. Since you work a lot,” she replied, watching as he smiled and feeling that infectious warmth spread to her own face.

“Who is going to answer?” he asked, the bite in his lip, tempting and filled with wonder. Claire ducked her head as she giggled, tucking hair behind her ear and looking back at him, raising her brow. Who is going to answer the obvious question? Instead, they swapped fond looks, smiling like they had known each other more than the few hours they had met for. Claire was swimming in the feeling of his carefree attitude. He was giving her something she had always missed out on. And she loved every second of it.

 

*~*~*

 

Alec came into the barracks, sweaty and gross after his run, but Owen was too excited to care. Tomorrow. He was seeing her tomorrow. Ah, she might actually like him when he wasn’t trying so hard to get on her good side. He let his cockiness show but he didn’t care. Whenever she smiled - he was in awe of her. _Claire_. “Should I wear this one? Or this one?” he asked Alec, who scoffed, walking past him, as he showed - what must have looked like identical uniform jackets.

“Owen,” Alec sighed.

“I want to look my best,” Owen shrugged, Lowery poking his head out from behind the mirror, shaking his head.

“You’re driving an hour out of your way when there are medics on base,” Cian laughed.

“He’s going to see that pretty doctor,” Barry joined Cian.

“There’s only one pretty doctor here. Lieutenant Young,” Lowery stated and everyone looked to Alec’s unimpressed reaction. Lowery...always so slow. “Did you hear her ex is a soldier on our -” he started before Cian and Barry shoved him into an open locker and blocked him by the mirror.

“Give me a lift in, will you? I have to go to the hospital,” Alec asked, tapping Owen’s chest and ignoring Lowery.

“Why?” Owen asked, a little more confused.

 

*

 

Getting to the hospital, Alec explained that he said he’d pay for Rick’s medical bills. Alec - the guy with the heart of gold. Helping out this kid that basically ruined a perfectly good day. Soldiers, especially master sergeants don’t get paid much - Alec was risking a lot to help this kid. He came out on crutches, wearing his clothes from two days prior, looking exhausted, but better than when they found him. “He’s doing you a massive favour. You better repay him for this,” Owen warned. Rick gave a soft and nervous nod. Owen patted his shoulder.

“How did you get away?” Rick asked Alec. Owen stopped and looked at his friend. Without hesitation, he replied.

“I went somewhere they could never touch me. And look at where I am now,” he said, gesturing to himself and there was a hopeful smile on Rick’s face as Alec gestured for them to walk. Owen departed from them as he went to the lobby, hoping to find a nurse or someone that may know Claire.

He tried to grab anyone’s attention, but no one cared for him the moment a patient came through the doors. On top of him sat Claire, hands pressed hard into his stomach as blood was covering the man’s torso. Owen stared in wonder at her, not paying any attention to him as the patient was wheeled past.

“He’s losing a lot of blood!” she shouted. “Faster!” she called, desperately. Owen raced up behind the gureny, pushing with every he had. The nurses he saw the other day turned and smiled to him as he followed their direction. Claire was none the wiser throughout the entire event. Her focus solely trained on the man’s life. As they led him into one of the operating rooms, Owen stayed back, noticing the time of 3pm. And he knew - he wouldn’t be seeing Claire that night.

Back at the base, Owen was working out. He was pulling himself up, chin ups that he had lost count of how many around fifty. He just kept going, feeling his body in the perfect condition if he was called to action. Even with the stitches, he could perform and fight to the best of his ability. He may need to get them removed before he went abroad though, as he had no clue when he’d be coming back.

Hoping down from the exercise equipment, he sat down and drank some water, wiping himself off, the sweat pooling on his skin. Sitting there, catching his breath, his phone rang. He wasn’t sure on the number, but answered it anyway. “It’s...It’s Doctor Claire Dearing,” she said softly, and Owen smiled to himself.

“Hi,” he replied.

“I heard you waited,” she said in return.

“It was the first time I was ever stood up by a doctor,” he said and he could hear her laugh slightly on the other end. “I thought it was best that I left,” he said, “did he live? Your patient?”

“He did,” she said, confident in her words. Owen felt happy for her.

“Is this your personal number?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, a smile echoing in her words, “you best save it. Make another appointment for your stitches.”

“I don’t want to miss you tomorrow,” he said, and she scoffed, small and embarrassed laughs coming through.

“Are you always this straightforward?” she asked.

“I meant for the appointment,” he said, lying through his teeth.

“So did I,” she said, clearing her throat.

“No you didn’t,” he said, concealing a smile he knew she couldn’t see.

“You don’t trust your doctor?” she asked, “Did you take your medicine?”

“Will it be bad if I don’t take it? Will I be hospitalised?” he replied and Claire laughed again. Owen liked hearing her laugh.

“What time will you come tomorrow?” she said, expectedly. But Owen couldn’t stand the feeling in his chest, the amount of strain he felt just not seeing her. Owen liked this woman - more than any other woman he’d ever met, he wanted to see her.

“Instead...do you want to see me now?” he asked. There was silence pervading the call. No answer. No reply. Silence. “You don’t,” he said, swallowing his pride.

“No, I do,” she said, “come now.” They said their goodbyes quickly and Owen dashed for the showers. He managed to get changed and dressed before any of the guys started asking too many questions. It took him awhile to get to the hospital, but Claire said she still had a little bit of her shift left, so he assumed he was arriving just on time.

Sitting in the hospital waiting room, the T.V. played news in between programs. Owen wasn’t paying much attention, waiting for Claire to text him back. Then, he took notice. Across the screens some fighting had broken out in a town he’d recognised, and a part of Owen’s heart sank. Phone blaring, he answered, knowing exactly who it was. Owen stood, as though the man was in front of him.

“Yes, sir,” he said, explaining his situation. General Young gave him his commands and Owen went to the elevator doors. “I’ll make my way up now,” he said before the phone call ended. On his way up, he called Claire, who answered sweetly, which made this all the more hard.

“I’m sorry, something came up,” he explained.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“On the roof.”

“What roof?” she exclaimed.

Owen waited for a while, staring out at the night sky, wondering if the night sky was always this clear in Jacksonville or if tonight was especially bright. He hoped it was the latter. He liked the stars sometimes. It wasn’t long until Claire was by his side. Her hair was done, gathering past her shoulders and looking pristine and beautiful. If Owen ever got a date with this woman - he’d be damn lucky.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked, brow confused and worried.

“I’m sorry, but I have to stand you up this time,” he tried to explain, but it only added to her confusion. Then, a helicopter was hovering close by, as though it was going to land on the roof.

“Oh! It must be an emergency, we should probably -” Claire tried, but Owen stopped her.

“It’s for me,” he said.

“For you? For what?” she asked. “Did a war break out?” she exclaimed. Owen laughed.

He couldn’t help but think, _You’re so adorable_. He looked at the helicopter, watched as it took its landing on the helipad.

“It did somewhere,” he said over the roars for the vehicle.

“Why do you need to go?” she yelled, hair starting to whip across her face.

“I’ll explain next time,” Owen yelled back, tucking her hair behind her ear. Last thoughts, right? They gotta be perfect. “I want there to be a next time. Can you promise me that?” he asked. He pleaded with her as someone from the chopper tried to hail him down. Looking back at her, Claire nodded.

“I promise,” she smiled.

There was a moment of looking at her and he wanted to kiss her. He’d known her for only a few hours in total, but those gorgeous eyes and tender features - he was utterly smitten. And with all her concern, it was a deep yearning to kiss her anyway.

Instead, he nodded and dashed off to the waiting chopper. Before getting inside, he looked back at Claire, her eyes curious and watching. He felt like kicking himself for leaving - but he had no choice. Putting himself into his seat, clipping himself in, the chopper took off and Owen watched her as much as the bright city would let him see her.

That night, he was thankful it was bright.

 

*

 

Owen slept a lot of the trip, even over the deafening hum of the engines, he could still find himself drifting into sleep if given the right amount of time. Looking over to Alec, dressed in his military uniform, darker colours than ordinary soldiers. But it was necessary. The alpha team’s packs were lighter than normal, but they had all the essential items any member of alpha team could use. They were ready for their descent. Air drops were always fun.

The rest of Alpha team began to wake, the warning alarm blaring for their descent in minus five minutes.

“How long was it?” Owen asked. Alec sighed, nodding with his reply.

“Seven hours,” he said.

“So we’re here,” Owen said, snapping the dog tags from around his neck. He stood as Cian and Barry did the same. They all handed their dog tags to Alec, who placed them on a hook inside the plane. Lowery snapped his own, but more confused than the others. He was fresher than everyone else, seen little combat, but he was good. This was new to him.

“Why are we taking off our tags? We need them don’t we?” he asked above the roar of the plane.

“No identification. If we die, no one can trace us,” Alec replied, taking his spot next to Owen. The plane’s rear doors began to open, the air swooping in to create a tunnel of air, ready to suck them out.

“Where are we?” Lowery yelled.

“Afghanistan,” Owen replied, their time up - alarms sounding, and they dove from the plane, their target zone nearing and they needed to be sharp the moment they hit the ground.

When abroad - their one and only mission was to come back with everything complete. They thought of nothing and no one else. They had no choice. They were soldiers and they were ruthless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters you read that you don't recognise are original characters from pre-existing stories of mine. If you want any clarification on any characters, their design or stories they're attached to, please let me know.  
> Delays for each chapter, as they take a while to write - sorry in advance!


	2. Forced Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive shout out to @doesitsaysassonmyuniform (tumblr) for being a beta for this fic, and this chapter. She’s been super busy and made time for me. Also, thank god for NaNoWriMo otherwise this fic would have been on hiatus for a LOT longer. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Hopefully more coming soon!!

Owen had stopped in her line of view; looking back at Claire like he needed to memorise the sight of her. In her chest, there was part of her that lurched, begging for him to stay longer, to look at her like that for hours. Instead, he turned to the helicopter and jumped inside, flying off into the distance Claire watched every second of it, even as the sky cleared and all she could see was the night’s horizon. Claire didn’t know how long she stood there, just enough time to be interrupted by Xander, a doctor who had been working with Claire for years. 

“Do you often stand on rooftops looking longingly at the distance?” he asked, cigarette between his teeth as he talked. Claire rolled her eyes before taking the cigarette out. 

“You still have a thing for my sister?” she asked and Xander licked at his lips, clearing his throat and avoiding her gaze, looking towards the night sky. 

“We’re very predictable,” he said and Claire laughed. Looking off at the distance, she pondered something, questioned it with the small inkling of curiosity. 

“Do Marines often get flown to their missions in helicopters?” she asked. Xander laughed loudly. 

“Did you get hit in the head or something?” he asked, but Claire didn’t look at him, she just let her eyes stay on the horizon. “Yeah, I guess,” he finally answered and Claire sighed. 

_ I wonder why he had to leave so suddenly? _

_ I wonder if he’ll come back? _

_ I wonder if I’m worth his time?  _

Claire had so many questions. She wanted them all answered.

And she smiled. 

 

*~*~*

 

Owen sat with the rest of his team, huddled around each other with notes and details on their assignment. It was a joint operation between the Alpha and Delta teams, and that was always a concern to Owen. Although they had worked together in the past, Delta were one of the lower ranked teams, and constantly had to prove themselves. Alpha was an elite unit. So the underdogs didn’t quite care for them at all. 

The General, Craig Young, had gone through the basics of the mission. This was a covert op, they needed to work during the night, and they needed to be quick. These two teams were the fastest their units could provide. Owen, being the amazing and absolute best captain there is, knew his team was better. And he may have only slightly oversold himself. 

“There are suffering UN officers being held hostage,” The General started, “and since this is a rescue mission -” he paused to look each of them in the eye, “I expect you all to put aside your differences to get these two home safe.”  The screen flashed, and the faces of the two UN workers stared out. “I want no fatalities.” He finished. 

All of Alpha team skimming through their notes and finding the profiles. They needed to make sure they knew names when it came time for rescue. General Young cleared his throat and the screen changed to a aerial photo of a building. “This is the building where the hostages are being held. One team will enter from the northeast, whilst the other will enter from the southeast. In total, you have ninety seconds to complete the entire mission. Do you all understand me?” he asked, and both teams sounded off quickly. 

“Yes, sir!” 

Ninety seconds was quick. It’s only a minute and a half, but it was late at night, it was secluded, if they got caught - they had no cover. Owen looked at his team, and they seemed ready. 

Except for Lowery. He wasn’t the youngest of their group, but he was new. He wasn’t used to covert ops - he was used to comms and technology stuff - guns and saving people were new for him. When Alpha team walked out, Owen clapped Lowery on the shoulder. Ninety seconds was no time at all, and Owen only hoped that Lowery could cut it.

 

*

 

They knocked the door down guns up as they enter. They clear the rooms to either side, they enter the main floor, dark and uninterrupted - completely barren of anyone. As Alec and Owen stood at the threshold, something felt off - like they were missing something. Owen caught it just as Lowery pushed past, making his way into the corridor. 

“No!” Alec yelled, and Lowery’s ankle clipped smoke grenades that were set up. Owen and Alec both sighed as the grenades blew and the set they were practicing in collapsed. Owen dropped his gun to the side and undid the comms in his ear. Lowery, who panicked when the smoke started, was on the floor curled in a ball. Kicking at his boots, Owen huffed. 

“Mission failed. We’re all dead,” he rolled his eyes. 

From across the room, Delta team had gathered, groaning in displeasure and kicking at the makeshift set of their practise mission. “Great job as always, Alpha!” Their captain, Blackbull, sarcastically drawled. “We do need to be alive to finish the fucking mission!” 

Lowery was shaken, standing with the aid of Owen who reassured his subordinate. Everyone fucks up a covert - that’s why they did practice runs with the unfamiliar. It was just cruel to tease and mock the team. The captain continued on, heedless to the growing anger in the room - he really should watch his fucking mouth sooner rather than later. “One slip up and we get discharged, but these fuckers can get us all killed and get promotions in the process!” he called out and Owen sucked in a breath. He was going to regret this.

Actually...Alec might. 

“Alpha team can beat the shit out of you any day of the week. And complete all your missions at the same time,” Owen taunted.

“Big Boss, shut up, will you?” Alec loudly whispered, and Owen scoffed, stripping the guns and bulky vest from his body as the Delta captain did the same. 

“When have I ever shut up?” Owen smirked. 

“Fuck you too, I guess,” Alec huffed, putting his hands on his hips. And then he watched Owen work. Well, he assumed Alec watched. He probably rolled his eyes and covered his face, knowing he had to follow Owen. If he knew anything about Alec, he loved and hated following his friend like this. 

And without word or warning, the two captains charged at each other. As their captain - codename Blackbull - charged, he braced himself and threw a punch. Owen saw it coming, pushing himself down and tackling him at the waist. They flew to the ground, Owen on top of Blackbull and throwing as many punches as he could land. Hit after hit, his fist ached from the constant pressure of each punch. Eventually getting numb, Owen went carelessly with how he attacked. 

Owen had missed it - the subtle way he brought back his fist was enough of an opening for some less trained - and Owen rolled backwards. When he was ready, he was kicked in the ribs sharply, and he buckled, curling slightly as he was kicked once more. Then, Blackbull brought his knee up and Owen saw the next move. Rolling over, Blackbull’s foot came down, and Owen was on his knees. 

Deep breath, and the fight raged on, Blackbull ramming at Owen like his namesake, but it was useless when Owen saw the leg aiming for his chest. Catching it, Owen kicked at his knee, and Blackbull went down. At waist height, Owen let go of his leg and kicked the captain square in the chest. Blackbull grunted as he staggered backwards, trying to get to his feet. Owen guarded his face with his fist.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” Lowery asked behind Owen, dodging a punch from Blackbull and jabbing at his ribs. 

“Captains have to work this shit out, not us,” Alec said and as Owen smirked, a knee was brought up into his stomach and an elbow straight down into his shoulder. 

Gathering himself back to his feet, blocking the kick that came for his face and jabbed a fist into Blackbull’s knee. The room it left gave Owen a moment to breathe before the punches began like a boxing match; trading them until the bell was going to ring. As Owen began to grow tired of it, he caught Blackbull’s arm and twisted it, only for the two captains to react the same and kick the other in the chest. 

Owen found himself on his back, gasping for a breath that wouldn’t come, his chest so tight that it felt like it was slowly collapsing. Rolling onto his side, he saw Blackbull doing the same, trying to catch his breath. They looked at each other, the soft echoes of their team cheering them on, loud pumping of blood in ears - this was adrenaline in a fight, pumping hard and fast, no other thoughts or feeling, just moving. Then, it was like life was brought to both of them, because they were on their feet, panting and waiting for the other to pounce. 

Tearing across the distance between them, Owen charged hard, aiming his fist low at Blackbull’s knee and climbing onto the other as he was left defenseless. With leverage as his advantage, Owen could sit on Blackbull’s shoulders, taking his left arm up and leaning his own body weight back to pull them both down to the ground. Locking his legs tightly together, Owen kept pulling his arm, Blackbull fighting against the hold as much as possible. When he bit directly into Owen’s thigh, he had to unhook his legs to kick down into Blackbull’s stomach. 

With this, Blackbull managed to snake his way of out Owen’s hold and back himself up, punching into Owen’s stomach and allowing him to regain some advantage over Owen and his arm to be released all in one. Licking at his lip, Owen tasted blood, a whack in the face early probably did it - but Blackbull had an increasingly red eye with a split right on his brow. 

Colliding once more, it became a wrestle, exhausted and frustrated as they tried to knee and kick the other in such a close range without either of them allowing distance. Owen threw his elbow into the mix and from the corner of his eye saw Yellow Tiger walking in, his men already grabbing at the captains, and making the mean right elbow falter from its destination. “Delta team captain, Blackbull!” Yellow Tiger - General Young - commanded. Blackbull pushed off his restrainers, and gave attention. 

“Yes sir!” he called back. 

“Alpha team captain, Big Boss!” 

Owen fixed himself up, and stood steadfast. “Yes sir!”

“Enough of this shit! Back to work now! We have less than twelve hours before the mission!” he ordered, and eyed the two men down. Owen glanced over to Blackbull and the two parted ways as the training exercise was placed back together for another opportunity. Alec made a face that could only mean ‘This is what you get’, and Owen rolled his eyes. Yeah...this was what he got. 

  
  


*~*~*

 

Claire stood in front of the bathroom mirror, Karen standing nearby as Claire adjusted the cuffs around her wrist. Looking at her reflection, Claire blew her bangs out of her eyes and leaned against the bathroom counter and looked to her sister. 

“I wasn’t nervous when I first applied, but now I can barely remember any of the questions they asked me,” Claire complained, her hand resting on her forehead as Karen smiled, her phone going off. Meeting at Claire’s side, she showed her the text she had received from Gray. It was a picture of him and an essay results. He managed to get an A plus and Claire smiled to her sister. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it this time,” Karen said, smiling at her phone as she got the camera up and photographed herself and Claire putting an enthusiastic thumbs up, “they won’t fail you three times,” she finished, sending the photo off. 

“Right?” Claire replied, brushing the hair from her face. The haircut was becoming something far more needed than she realised. “The Chief said my scores were the highest of any candidate who applied, that’s gotta mean something,” she said, shrugging, a little unsure. Karen rubbed at Claire’s shoulder as another doctor walked in. She moved to the sink at the end, just a sink down from Karen. Danielle Saunders, another attending surgeon that Claire had her residency with. They...didn’t get along. Danielle wasn’t completely hopeless, but she got by on her pretty looks and her family influence over the hospital. 

“Oh, Danielle, got a big date!” Karen commented, Danielle looking a little unprofessional for work in a pair of shorts and a blouse under her white coat. 

“No, an interview,” she said, and Karen snapped her head back to Claire. 

“Before me,” she mouthed her reply, and Karen grimaced. Danielle washed her hands, turning to Claire and presenting the fakest smile possible. She always did like appearing like the nicest person. But they both knew better. 

“How did you go? Did they ask you too many hard questions?” she said, flicking her long dark brown hair over her shoulder. 

“You weren’t in there very long, maybe they knew you couldn’t answer as many,” Claire remarked, folding her arms over her chest. Danielle scoffed. 

“Or they didn’t think you were qualified enough,” Danielle quipped, raising her brow and Claire chewed on the inside of her lip. “I have to go, surgery!” she beamed, shaking the water off her hands and hitting Karen and Claire. 

“Ugh, why do I always get riled up around her?” Claire groaned, fixing her skirt. 

“Because she got here on her daddy’s reputation,” Karen whispered back. 

“I’m sure her  _ daddy _ had so much to do with it,” Claire said, moving her arms together to make her cleavage a little more pronounced than before and Karen laughed. “Why did she even apply for the position? She failed the test four times,” Claire huffed, pushing the thought from her mind as Karen leaped the distance between them and blew a raspberry into Claire’s cheek. Claire shoved her sister from her side, but laughed throughout Karen’s attempt to cheer her up. 

 

*

 

Waiting in surgery, Claire and the other nurses scrubbed in, they felt the time ticking by. Claire was about to ask where Wu could be, when Danielle walked in. The clicking of her heels made Claire’s brow knit, confused and trying to understand what was happening. 

“Let’s go,” Danielle said.

Claire scoffed, “You can’t find your operating room, can you? Doctor Wu is -” 

“Chief surgeon changed doctors. I’m in charge, you’re my assistant,” Danielle said, the silence in the room so thick, any of their knives could cut through it. She suddenly looked at Zia. “What are you doing?” she asked and Zia sighed, looking back at the machines. 

“Respiratory rate, sixteen. EKG is normal,” she said, and Danielle stepped forward. 

“Let’s start. Scalpel,” she asked, gesturing to Karen, who reluctantly complied. It wasn’t as if she could walk out - she was there to help the patient. 

The surgery began without any more delays, patience was sewn into the air and their attention was strictly on their own jobs. Claire maintained her position as assistant, allowing Danielle to take the lead, even though her procedures were not what Claire would have done - it was still fine. 

“You helped with Doctor Wu’s paper, right?” Danielle asked. Claire cleared her throat, concentrating on the patient. 

“You bought him a watch,” she replied. 

“Right angled scissors. Really trying to suck up, aren’t you?” 

“You bought him a watch,” Claire scoffed, looking briefly to Danielle. “I’m the one that showed him my skills, not trying to win him over,” she said, about to question a particular thing Danielle was doing when blood sprayed from the body and hit Claire and Danielle. “What did you do? What did you touch?” Claire asked quickly, but Danielle was stunned by the action - completely unprepared. 

“It’s a tension pneumothorax. We need to decompress it. Fourteen gauge needle,” Claire confirmed, hand out ready for the instrument. 

“I’m the surgeon here, I’ll do it,” Danielle snapped, and Claire scowled. 

“Then do it quickly!” 

“Fourteen gauge needle,” Danielle said, preparing the needle before putting it into the man’s chest, removing the pin at end, the monitors going bezerk. Claire stared at the monitors before snapping her attention back to Danielle. 

“What are you doing?” she spat, as Danielle’s shaking hand reached to the nurses.

“Twenty-eight French,” Danielle’s voice quivered, and Claire knew she couldn’t do it. 

“Doctor Saunders, I think I can take it now,” Claire said, and there wasn’t a debate. The instruments were handed over to Claire, the blood that was pouring was stopped after a few moments of unsure steps. Then, suction came in, sutures were performed, but the heart was giving up.  Claire looked over to Karen, who nodded, getting the paddles.

“Ten joules, charge,” Claire asked, and the voltage was ramped up.

“Clear,” Karen said, and the surgeons stepped back, hands away from the body and Claire positioning the paddles. Then, it jolted the patient. The heart beat still staggering to get to a steady rate. 

“Thirty joule. Charge,” Claire asked.

“Charged.” 

“Clear.” 

The sisters worked in sync, clearing the patient as they worked to fix the issues that kept arising. Claire didn’t know how much time swept by, but it was enough that Claire had sweat running down her back, and she felt the tension in her feet as she was letting the adrenaline run out of her body. 

“Blood pressure and pulse are normal,” Zia confirmed, and Claire took a much needed breath. 

“The worst is over,” she confirmed, looking up at Danielle, “you can finish up.” Claire finished finalising the suture and handed off to another surgeon. Zia and Karen were both overdue on their hours, and were allowed out along with Claire. 

“I will,” Danielle spoke quickly, asking another nurse for instruments to continue. Claire didn’t pay attention as she left the surgery and went out into the hall. 

Taking off the surgery scrubs, tossing them into the bin and groaning as she felt the sweat and most probably blood on her skin. 

“If you’re not good enough, practice more. If you’re not smart enough, study more!” Claire muttered to herself and kicked the bin. “Ah!” she groaned as Zia walked out behind her, tossing her garments into the trash along with Claire’s. “Why does she have to be so stubborn?”

“You held your cool in there. You should be proud of yourself,” Zia smiled, patting Claire’s shoulder. 

Hands on her hips, Claire sighed. “Watch her take credit for that even when she botched the fucking thing.” 

“You can calm down,” Zia chuckled, running a hand through her hair. 

“I’m just so mad. Why is she like this always?” Claire said, fists bound as though she was ready to punch something. Instead, she looked to Zia and let the anger dissipate. “You did great too. You helped so much in there,” she reassured, and Zia shook her head, rolling her eyes. 

“Thanks,” she muttered, but as her brow furrowed, eyes gazing over her shoulder - Claire knew there was something else going on. Looking where Zia was, they saw Franklin wandering around, a little more nervous than usual, hands bound and muttering to himself. 

“Franklin…” Claire called, and he jumped, walking over to the two carefully, “what are you doing?” 

“I’m….freaking out,” he said, leaning in to whisper. 

“When aren’t you freaking out?” Zia laughed. Claire concealed her own laugh. Then, they both watched as Franklin dove his hands into the medical scrubs bin, hands fumbling around. 

“I don’t remember if I put my ring in my pocket or..” he began. Claire and Zia looked at each other. 

“Or what Franklin?” Claire asked.

The grimace on Franklin’s face made her stomach turn. “Dropped it in a patient.” 

“Franklin!” she swore under her breath.

“Just -” 

“You better not have fucked up,” Zia warned him. Then, he cheered. 

“I got it! I got it,” he said, presenting the ring for both Zia and Claire. The pair sighed.

“Lucky little shit, come here,” Zia said, gesturing from him to get to her, but Franklin backed up. 

“I have another surgery, leave me alone!” he said, rushing off down the hall.

“You don’t have any other surgeries to do today, dumbass!” Zia said, running as fast as she could feasibly do within a hospital hallway. “Wait up!” she called out again. Someone came up behind Claire, poking her in both of her sides and standing beside her a moment later. Karen. 

“Ah, the kids, young and so full of hope,” she smirked, and the two sisters began walking beside each other, feet crossing over one another with each step. 

“Franklin thought he dropped his ring in a patient,” Claire said, Karen’s arm over her shoulder and Claire’s hugging around her back. 

“For a supposedly genius doctor, he’s kind of an idiot,” Karen commented and Claire scoffed. 

“Tell me about it,” she said, Karen looked at her phone and sighed. “How’s Zach?” 

“First semester at college and I think he’s failing,” she said. 

“No calls huh?” 

“He stopped after the third week.” 

“Well, you remember when I stopped calling,” Claire reminded and Karen laughed. 

“Nearly scared the shit out of mom,” she said. Then, Karen stopped at the forking of the corridors, so many directions to go and so many different things to do. “You saved a person today Claire,” she confirmed, hand on her sister’s cheek. 

“Yeah, I like it when that happens,” Claire shrugged, but she had a sense of pride rocketting through her. She was the one that saved that patient. Claire saved a life. 

“Drinks tonight?” 

“Meet in Vivian’s office, I’m going on rounds soon,” Claire confirmed, her sister pulling away. 

“Okay, I gotta go see the residents,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“Have fun with the newbies,” Claire mocked, scrunching up her nose and sticking her tongue out. Karen replied with the same. 

 

*~*~*

 

Owen took a deep breath, looking over to Alec for a brief moment before the mission started. It might be the last he saw of his best friend. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Two fingers raised. Signaled the group forward. Alpha team stormed the threshold. The exterior had three individuals, but it was dark, they never saw the team storm up behind them. Each taken down without lethal force. Only if necessary. With Owen leading the pack, he walked almost sideways, gun pointed forward as the others scoped out the surroundings. Dark and unfamiliar, the soldiers continued on cautiously. 

Blue light. Owen looked up, pointing his flashlight upwards, he caught the glimpse of the flashing little dot. Alec and Barry moved forward as they all stood guard. Bomb or otherwise, Barry disarmed the thing, making their entrance as quiet as possible. 

Taking aim towards the building, Alpha team stormed the building. With Barry and Lowery crouching at the door, Cian and Alec aiming upwards and Owen focusing straight into the building. Signalling to Alec, the captain and master sergeant switched positions, keeping the team quiet as they continued. 

Before they knew it, Delta team echoed yells of distress over the comms, a trap they had fallen into it. They warned alpha team, but gunfire had started before they could go for cover further ahead.  When bullets hit concrete or brick, the sound is unlike what one would expect - instead of a bang, it hits like a pop. Almost like a cork hitting a wall as hard as it could, sound basically lost as soon as the cement swallowed it. Over and over again it berated the cover they were all huddled against.

Wordlessly, Alec accessed the surroundings and motioned to Owen - he was pulling off a stunt and needed one other with him. Cian was needed for cover. Owen nodded, nudging Cian forward and gesturing up to the concrete pillars and scaffolding above them. The two soldiers prepared and they all waited for gunfire to soften before Alec leaned around their cover and fired one shot. The momentum of the bullet nudged a resting metal barrel, sending it across the path where the men needed to go. 

As the barrel rolled, both soldiers crouched and hid behind the moving cover. It was still hit with bullets, but it allowed them enough room to get to their position. Owen and the other returned fire, watching as Cian free-climbed up the pillar until he managed to get to the top. With his vantage point. Taking out the most visible or inept of those firing, Owen looked to Cian who signalled down the number he could see - at least four. He could handle four to get to the next room. One room between the hostages and him. 

From his belt line, he took a smoke grenade and tossed it over to the terrorists. It took little time for the smoke to disperse, and enough for Owen to use it as cover. Gesturing for Barry and Lowery, they opened fire towards the men, injuring one as Owen walked calmly towards the fray. 

He felt in his element, sunken into himself as protocol took over, very deliberate steps as he fired his automatic. When he knew he needed to save ammunition, he let the M16A4 rifle fall to the strap across his body and switch to the pistol, taking out targets as quickly as possible. It was training, so strict that Owen could feel himself but he felt so detached - he wasn’t like he normally was, this was Owen in action, and it was strange to experience it within such a short timeframe. 

When he made his way through as many men as possible, killing at least two, he barrelled his way into the hostage room. With his hands full of physically fighting one man, his squad filed in behind him. Room breached, alpha team took their aim and started to fire off rounds into the room, and Owen took one aim into the abdomen of the man. As the gunshot went off and the man fell, Owen took out one more in the shoulder, watching as they were preparing to harm the UN workers.

It was strange, the feeling of the loss of adrenaline in such a short amount of time. Looking at his watch, Owen saw the time they had just clicked over ninty-seconds - unseen for the most part, but no casualties. Just as Owen felt at ease, a door that Alpha team had not entered from burst off its hinges. It was a visceral reaction from alpha, pointing their guns and ready for action once more. Delta team stood on the receiving end, lowering their guns and trying to enter the room. 

Shooting at their feet, they aimed their guns at him. He gestured from his eyes to their feet, where a tripwire sat, most likely attached to explosives. They all sighed, stepping over the wire and nodding to Owen. Lowery and Barry assisted the UN workers, attending to their needs as Delta team filed in, disarming and making sure the perimeter was secure as Alpha team took point. 

Their entire endeavour was silent - efficient to a fault, no words exchanged in order to save the ones they came for. They would have died to complete their mission. 

To save a life, you must take it. 

He knew that better than most. 

Taking his hand to his communication system, Owen contacted home base. 

“This is alpha team leader, Big Boss,” he confirmed, looking at the two teams, “the mission is complete, hostages are safe.” 

He couldn’t smile yet. But he wanted to. 

Owen couldn’t wait to get back to the States. He had a date waiting. 

 

*~*~*

 

Claire laughed, legs up on the swirling chair, her sister sipping at wine as Vivian typed on her computer. The sisters were interrupting Vivian’s work - finalising a patient's records before sending them off for a clinical study. Karen was gossiping about two nurses that Claire didn’t realise were in a relationship. In a hospital, gossip was all they really had these days. “They never leave the damn hospital, how did she get pregnant?” Claire said as Karen’s ankles were hoisted up on Claire’s shoulder, the older sister slumped in her chair. Moving her legs down to her lap, Karen laughed and scooted closer to Claire. 

“This is a big hospital,” Vivian said, barely paying attention. 

“Do you think it was the storeroom or on-call room?” Karen asked and Claire groaned. 

“Not the on-call, I sleep in there.” 

Karen reached towards the desk to pick up the pasta and hovered it over Claire’s mouth. “Say ah!” 

“Have you heard from him?” Vivian asked and Claire sighed, swallowing the food. 

“Nope,” she replied, “anyway, I don’t think he’s the kind of guy that calls often,” Claire said, cuddling her jacket a little closer to herself. 

“Who is he? Soldier, gunshots, and a chopper?” Vivian asked. Claire got out her phone, flipping to her patient file, scanning over the picture on her screen.

“Is he a spy?” Karen interrupted, smacking at Claire’s arm.

“Is he?” she sighed, unable to stop the smile that was emerging from ear to ear. 

“What are you looking at?” Vivian asked, trying to lean over the desk. 

“His picture,” Claire smiled, a small blush on her cheeks. “It’s the only one I have of him.” 

“You’re crazy,” Karen scoffed before laughing at Claire, squeezing her cheeks and teasing her. Claire poked at her sister’s side and the pair laughed over wine and most gossip from around the hospital. 

Sleeping briefly in the on-call room, Claire felt energised by the time midday came around. She knew she was seeing Owen that afternoon - a text told her as much - but she still didn’t want to leave. The only thing that brought her out of her sleep was was the two nurses that came in and started to make out in front of her. After that point Claire knew she needed to get a bed installed in Vivian’s office so she could soundly sleep. 

Coat over her shoulder, wrapped in her sweats and watching as her sister made gestures to her about her oncoming date, Claire started out of the hospital, travelling down the hallway. When Franklin started to run, brow so furrowed - a constant worry for Claire that he may pull a muscle in his face one day - she saw him stop. He turned to her, almost ready to ask her something 

“I’m off today. Don’t try it,” she said, hand already cupping his mouth. Moving her hand, his brow somehow furrowed further.

“But -” 

“Don’t text or call me from now on. I’m not going to answer,” she warned him. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I’ve got a date,” she said, beaming. 

“You’re not meeting him like that are you?” Franklin exclaimed. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Claire laughed, turning on her heels and waving over her shoulder.

“Claire, come on!” 

Laughing to herself, Claire made it out of the front doors, stretching her arms up and groaning as she felt herself wake from her tired body. Bending from one side to the other, she felt her limbs wake and her back feel more in order - the stiffness that once invaded her bones was no longer present and she revelled in the freedom of her body once more. As she was beginning to walk down to the bus stop, she stopped when she saw Owen standing against a car, bright smile on his face. Out of fear - or a weird form of self-preservation - Claire threw her arms over her face, only allowing her eyes to poke through the gap. 

“How have you been?” he asked, walking over to her with his hands in his pockets. 

“Why are you here already? We still have like two hours, right?” she said, looking up at her watch, still covering her face. 

“I came really early, sorry about that, but I really wanted to see you,” he apologised, a beautiful goofy smile picking up his lips. Claire bit her bottom lip, unsure of how to reply. 

“Well, it’s still -” 

“Is there a reason you’re hiding your face from me?” he asked, trying his hardest to see under her concealing arms. 

“I’m...a little insecure at the moment. I’m not wearing any make-up. I need to wash my hair and get changed,” she explained, clearing her throat. As Owen leaned forward, his eyes squinting at her, his smile turned to a smirk. 

“You look pretty enough to me,” he said and Claire lowered her arms. 

“Really?” she asked, putting her hand on her hip. “Do you think I’m presentable enough right now?” 

Then, Owen straightened, gesturing towards his car. “Come, I’ll drive you home.” 

Claire rolled her eyes. “Guess I’m not pretty enough,” she said, moving past him and going towards his car. 

In the car ride, there was no awkwardness between them - Claire and Owen talked and joked about their days and small little quips on their family life. She didn’t know why she felt so comfortable with Owen. With anyone else, she had her guard up, completely strict and to the business - completely upfront with anyone. And sure, she was clear with Owen about what she wanted from this, but she never felt so nervous to hear a response before. He had a charisma that she fell for, a big and goofy smile that made her feel warm. Above it all, the way he looked at her - like she really was made of stardust, a comet he couldn’t quite touch but marvelled in the glow of it. He put butterflies in her stomach and a mere look from him had her walking on air.

At her apartment, they went upstairs and Claire flicked on the lights, gesturing Owen inside. He walked in cautiously and Claire pursed her lips, closing the door behind them.

“Come in, it’s not messy. I’m not here long enough to make a mess,” she said, trying to step away from him but wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m going to wash my hair really quickly, but uh...” 

“Yes?” 

“I haven’t eaten today. Can we order something and eat here?” she asked, watching as Owen scratched the back of his neck.

“Kinda wanted to take you somewhere nice. But yeah, we can do that. You want something delivered?” he asked and Claire nodded, moving off to her bedroom and bathroom. 

“There’s a Korean Barbeque menu on the fridge, thanks!” she called out. 

“What do you want?” Owen called back. Poking her head from her bathroom, Claire smiled to Owen.

“Anything you have, but get a lot!” Owen chuckled and waved her off, and she happily went to her shower. 

Claire showered quickly, save for her hair. Putting in the conditioner, she tried to hurry herself, knowing full well her date was waiting for her to get changed and get ready for a night ahead. When she was ready, Claire went under the spray until it suddenly died out. The water no longer came from the faucet, and Claire’s hair was still unwashed. 

“What the hell?” Claire exclaimed, flicking at the tap. No water came out no matter how much she fiddled with it. “Oh, come on!” she cursed, taking the towel nearby and wrapping it around her head loosely. She knew she looked ridiculous, but what else was she going to do.

Redressing in her sweats, she went into the kitchen, where Owen sat at the kitchen island. He looked at her curiously as he was reading from a magazine that had been nearby. “Have you ordered yet?” she asked, pursing her lips, trying to get him out of the kitchen. He didn’t answer, only slowly smiling as he stared at her. “What are you looking at?” she asked cautiously.

“Did you finish washing your hair?” She nodded in reply. Owen picked up a letter that was once on her fridge, and it dawned on her. “The water was cut off at 4pm,” he said, a subtle smirk on his lips. Well fuck. Fucking fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck. Well, screw it. Claire dashed to her fridge, found the three 1.5 litre mineral waters and dashed back to her bathroom. “Hey, it might be cold, want me to heat it up?” Owen called, a laugh echoing in his voice. Claire felt her entire face go red. 

“I’m okay! Thank you!” she called back, locking the bathroom door behind her and cursing herself more. She rinsed the product from her hair with the water and changed into her dress for the date. It was just an easy wrap dress that went unworn these days. So, perfect time to pull it from the shadows of her closet.

Claire dried her hair and met back with Owen in the living room, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table and eating the take out they had ordered. Surprisingly, Owen had quite the selection to pick from - probably unsure of what Claire would eat so he got an assortment. When Claire had a mouth full of food, Owen decided to catch her at her worst. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Don’t.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.” 

“You’re itching to make fun of me, I can tell.” 

“Where on my handsome face can you tell?” Claire laughed. 

“What do you want to ask?” she said, turning behind her to light a candle, knowing the way the light would act behind her. 

“Did you miss me?” he asked. Claire pursed her lips, knowing her cheeks would flush. 

“Funnily enough, I did,” she said, turning back to Owen, “what about you?” 

“I missed you a lot,” he said, raising his brow, as though to question her -  _ did you really think I wouldn’t? _

Claire leaned back to her spot in front of the coffee table and rested her elbow on it, chin falling to her hand. “Thanks for not bringing up the hair thing,” she said, a soft sigh leaving her nose, “let’s go get some of those bubble tea things before the movie,” she said, changing the subject quickly. Owen nodded. 

“Sure,” he smiled. Claire went back to her food. “Though, I could really go for some mineral water,” he said.

“Hey!” Claire almost choked on her mouth full of rice, swatting his thigh lightly, and Owen chuckled to himself as he started to finish up his meal. 

 

*

 

Claire and Owen found their seats in the movie theatre, a mostly empty session and they sat down with their bubble tea. Owen nodded along to what she was saying, sitting comfortably in his seat, “So, the other redhead that looked like she was going to bite my head off, that was your sister?” he asked and Claire nodded, sitting beside him and scooting closer to his seat to talk to him. 

“Yeah. Karen. She brings you up a lot, actually,” Claire admitted. Owen raised a fist, shaking it softly with a bright grin on his face. 

“Winning over the sister already,” he teased, looking back to Claire. She scoffed.

“I don’t know about that. Get on with her kids? She’d marry you in a heartbeat,” she remarked, then Owen looked over to her, brow raised and mischievous smile on his lips. 

“Two sisters? I could go for two sisters. I always liked redheads,” he joked told by his suggestive wriggle of his eyebrows and inability to keep his face completely straight. 

“Shut up,” Claire laughed, moving back into her chair as Owen smiled at her, watching her until he suddenly turned to his side. From his pocket, he pulled out his phone, staring at the screen for a moment. Then, he answered.

“Yes, sir,” he said, his shoulders straightening as he spoke. Claire sat up in her chair.  “Captain Owen Grady,” he confirmed, “yes, sir,” he said just before looking over to Claire, chewing on the inside of his lip, “yes, sir, understood.” 

Owen hung up the phone, and Claire leaned into him. “What’s going on?” 

“I think I have to go now,” he said, turning to her, disappointment etched into his features. 

“What? We just got here,” Claire sighed.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologised. Claire scoffed to herself, resting a hand near her forehead. 

“Am I being stood up again?” 

“I’m sorry. We can watch the movie when I get back, but...I have to go,” he said and Claire reclined back into her chair. 

“I’m staying, you can go,” she stated. Owen shook his head, trying to lean into her, but Claire pulled back into her chair more.

“We can watch it together.” 

“I’m fine, Owen. You can go,” she said. It seemed like Owen wanted to argue, to try and save this situation, but he must have known better. 

“I’ll call you later,” he said before getting up and rushing out of the cinema. Claire sat in her chair, chewing on her bottom lip, trying not to feel sorry for herself. She knew better than to get her hopes up - she should have known better, understood the difference more. Known this was what it was going to be like for them. Instead, she built up a fantasy that she didn’t want to be fake. 

As she was contemplating whether or not to leave, her phone started to buzz in her purse. “Really,” Claire swore under her breath. Answering it, she was about to scold Franklin when he shouted. 

“Claire! It’s me, you need to come to the hospital,” he pestered. 

“I said not to c-” 

“It’s the professor position,” he said, and Claire jumped out of her seat, listening to Franklin as she caught an Uber to the hospital. She didn’t believe it, how could she? She was so sure she’d get this job. Running past a worried Karen, Franklin, and Xander, Claire made her way up the Henry’s office. 

Not caring that she was bursting into his office, Claire stormed in and watched as Henry looked at her with utter bewilderment. He soon turned sour, but Claire wasn’t having it. She had the right. “You said I was a shoe in! I had that position! I am practically leading the surgical team! I’m the best trauma doctor this hospital has and you knew I wanted this position,” she yelled, feeling her hands bind as she was getting emotional. _ Not now. Keep it in.  _

“You can apply again,” he suggested and Claire scoffed, stepping into his desk. Henry backed up into his chair slightly. 

“The first time I applied I was too young, the second time you gave the position to the men that helped with your old thesis paper, and what now? What am I now that I’m not good enough?” she asked, knowing the answer.  _ Money, right?  _

“Claire, you can apply again and get the position next year.” 

“Henry this is bullshit and you know it! I worked my ass off for this hospital and this position!” she yelled again, and Henry sighed. Before he could reply, a knock came to his office door. The two looked to the door, finding Danielle beaming on the other side.

“Doctor Wu! Are you ready?” she asked, closing the door behind him. 

“I’ll be right with you,” he said, looking back to Claire, “apply next year, Claire.” Henry smiled to Danielle and grabbed his coat, walking away from his office. 

“Better luck next year,” Danielle said and Claire rolled her eyes, walking towards the door, “ah! I need you to cover my position tomorrow,” she said and Claire narrowed her gaze. 

“I’m not doing shit for you,” she spat out. Danielle pulled out a booklet of information.  _ Talk-shows and Medicine: What To Say On The Air. _ Danielle always liked the attention that the talk-show for the hospital got her. Claire never cared for it. 

“You know, I’m going out tonight. I can’t say I won’t get drunk. I need someone on the air. And you’re...decent enough. Read up and prepare what you need to say,” Danielle said, handing the booklet over to Claire. In her hands, the book felt sturdy….

“You bitch,” Claire said under her breath.

“What?” 

Claire threw the book back at Danielle. “You stuck up, spoiled little bitch. You are only here because of your family money, you have no skill and one day you’re going to get someone killed because of your stupidity,” Claire snapped. Danielle lurched forward, snatching up Claire’s hair and pulling it as hard as she could. 

“Watch what you say, bitch!” Danielle screamed, and Claire reached up, pulling at Danielle’s hair. Before Claire could launch at Danielle further, Karen, Xander, and Franklin came rushing in. Franklin unbound their hands from each other’s hair as Xander held back Danielle, and Karen held back Claire. 

“Claire!” Karen shouted, tugging her away, even when she fought against her sister’s hold.

“If I see you again, boasting about any of this, I’ll drag you by the hair out of this hospital and put you straight back in on a gurney,” Claire yelled. Danielle pushed the men from her and walked out of the room, staggering to get her bearings back to her. 

“Claire come on,” Karen said, but Claire pushed past her sister, took the booklet and went out of the room. Finding her way to Vivian’s office, she unlocked the door and collapsed against the door of the room. 

Claire huddled against in the office - no lights could touch her save for the streetlamps outside the window. Hidden away, Claire cried, allowing the shame of her low to hit her, and that her time was wasted on something that was so hopeless to wish for. She could have everything she wanted if this whole fucking system wasn’t rigged against her. She just wanted something of her own for once - she worked so fucking hard. 

Her day - a horrible mess of a broken date and now a failed job. Everything felt against her. She couldn’t win, dragged into things she never wanted. Day ruined. And now, she had time for tears to rain. She felt the fall, let her cries be messy and unrestrained - just allowing a sad day to end sadly. Claire couldn’t put a spin on this. And as much as she wanted her sister...she couldn’t face her now. 

Claire just wanted to cry.

 

*~*~*

 

At the barracks, Owen and Alec both signaled to their respective stuffed animals, now donned in army uniforms from the gift shop - the ones for little infants. Alpha team dumped their kits on their cots and dusting the sand from their uniforms. 

“Good job everyone,” Owen said, standing with his hands on his hips. 

“Thank you sir,” the squad replied. 

Alec cleared his throat, “Make sure you check your weapons thoroughly before roll call today.” 

“Yes sir.”

As Owen was about to strip out of his jacket, the door to their barracks opened. From the corner of his eye, Owen immediately saw who it was. General Young. “Attention!” Owen ordered and his entire unit stood to attention. Alec stared forward, and Owen knew what the master sargent was doing - showing himself to be the best military man in front of the General.

“At ease,” Young ordered and Owen repeated the command.

“At ease.” 

Young cleared his throat, shifting his gaze from Owen to Alec, before landing back on the captain. “Thank you for filling in for Bravo team. Was anyone hurt?” Owen turned on his heels faced the General and gave his formal reply. 

“No sir.” 

“I know you’ve all been working hard in and out of the country, so as your commanding officer, I’ve decided to send Alpha team on an eight month vacation,” Young said, and all of Alpha team exchanged looks. Save for Alec. Owen lost his formal speech, shocked by the command, and unsure how to approach it. 

“To where, sir?” Owen asked slowly. 

“Syria with the Descendants Unit,” Young explained, before looking at Alec, then looking vaguely at the rest of the team, “for the two weeks until training, visit your girlfriends and families,” he said, clearing his throat. “Get out of here as soon as possible. Dismissed.” 

“Yes sir!” The unit replied. The General left the room quickly, and the youngest soldier jumped up, hammering his excitement on Barry’s shoulder.

“We’re going on vacation?” Cian asked. Barry scoffed, shaking his hand through Cian’s hand. 

“We’re being dispatched, that’s our vacation,” he explained and Owen looked to Alec, the motivation for the move very clear to both of them, “we’ll support the regular troops in the area, so we won’t be doing any special missions,” Barry laughed, Cian and Lowery both clapped hands, cheering a little before everyone started to strip out of the uniforms and heading to the showers. Owen and Alec remained, sitting on their cots and knowing there was some sort of heartbreak to go along with this order.

 

*

 

Owen got to the hospital later that afternoon, needing to talk to Claire. He felt bad for how their dates kept ending up, and she deserved some form of explanation for his disappearances. Walking into the main area, glancing around to the nurses and doctors, but the only person he noticed was the red headed nurse. He went to her quickly, tapping at her elbow. She turned and smiled to him kindly. “Karen right?” he asked and she nodded, shifting weight onto her hip. “Hi, I’m just looking for Doctor Dearing? I’m trying her phone but she’s not answering.” 

“She isn’t here. She’s there,” she said, pointing towards the TV in the waiting room, “she got moved to a television position,” Karen said, shaking her head before moving on. Owen thanked her and moved towards the TV screen. 

Claire sat with her hair in a pristine fashion, dress form fitting, and looking drop dead gorgeous with the brightest smile on her face. She talked about a particular medical procedure that would help someone. The program obviously trying to educate those that watched, and reassure them that everything would be fine. Eventually the host asked Claire if it was her first time on TV as she looked calm and comfortable. 

“Do I look calm? I feel like I’m shaking like a leaf,” she laughed, pushing a stray hair from her face. Owen smiled at the woman, and knew he wouldn’t be finding her at the hospital. Instead, he went to her apartment and waited for her there. 

When she got there, she didn’t seem surprised to see him, but almost disappointed. They remained wordless when they went to a nearby coffee shop, sitting inside, drinking until their cups where empty. It felt hollow - how conversations can’t build and no matter how much someone could try to climb out of that hole, they’d remain in the depths. 

Owen cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I had to leave like that.” 

Claire sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want an apology, I want an explanation. Where did you go this time? Did a chopper come and get you?” 

Owen cracked a smile and shook his head. “I didn’t go far this time. Because of regulations, I can’t tell you anything else,” his smile faded. It wasn’t like he wanted to lie, or even keep something from her, but he wasn’t allowed to cross that line. 

“You’re not a spy, are you?” she asked suddenly and Owen hid his laugh. 

“No.” 

Claire nodded along, almost as though she was gathering up the courage to say it all. “I’ve had a very long day and thought about you here and there. Where the hell did this guy I’m attracted to go? What does he do? Now I’m with you, but you can’t tell me what I want to know, because of regulations,” she said, frustration building along her brow and the the tightness of her lips. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. 

“You’re special forces right? Some sort of elite unit or something?” she asked. Owen shrugged. 

“Something like that, yes.”

“You have a gunshot wound, so you’ve been shot. That means that you can shoot other people. That means you can kill people or you could be killed by someone. Sometimes I spend over twelve hours in the OR trying to save someone. That’s what I do. I save lives. But you protect people by killing others. That’s what you do. When you take lives, I save them. You fire one bullet and it ends someone’s life,” she explained, the line defined and Owen knew this was the breaking point. The tether that bound them in meeting, frayed by long silences and drawn out hours apart. He couldn’t save this moment, but it didn’t make this any less sad. 

“I’m a soldier. Soldiers like me follow orders. Even though what I believe is important, I know some might not feel the same way. I need to carry out my duty with everything I have. I’ve lost three fellow soldiers and I do what we do because it’s something someone should do. I protect the people in my family, and yours and everyone they care about. We do this to protect the freedom and keep peace,” he acknowledged, sucking in a breath, trying to seem like he was okay. That  _ this _ would be okay. 

“I’m a doctor. I believe in the dignity of life and there’s no value or ideology that is above that for me,” she replied. Where there was once a line, a wall went up. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze before looking back to her. 

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t what I expected.” 

“I understand.” He nodded, sighing as Claire gave back the same look. Disappointment. Something could have been there. It just...slipped by them. 

“I have to go.” 

“It was nice meeting you. Take care,” he replied, watching as she felt the coffee shop and past the window. 

She looked good walking away. 

He really wished she didn’t. 

_ It wasn’t okay.  _

 

*

 

Back at the barracks, a place that could never be considered home for an active soldier in his position, he showered. The communal shower was empty and with just Owen under the spray from his shower, his mirror in front of him soon fogged up. Wiping it away, he stared at his reflection, wondering if the man he was, was the man he wanted to be. Losing a love, or something that could have been, made a man rethink. But Owen was a soldier to his core. It was so hardwired into him, he wasn’t sure how he’d function outside of the military environment. 

Without realising it, Owen was no longer alone, as Alec walked in. Being in the army as long as they had - comfort with seeing another man’s naked body was a must. They had seen each other many times, and it wasn’t that unusual anymore. Alec took the spot next to Owen, switching the shower on and standing under the spray. 

“You’re back early,” Owen commented. 

“Look who’s talking,” Alec scoffed. 

“Aren’t you going to see Zara?” 

“Did you see that doctor?” 

The two men kept eye contact until Owen ducked his head and let it roll back, tired. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered. 

“You and I both know that relationships aren’t good in military. Something always happens. Doctors and soldiers are complete opposites. I know better than most,” Alec said, sadness filling every word.

“Pass the razor,” Owen asked, and Alec chuckled. 

“You like avoiding subjects.” 

“I like shaving,” Owen said reaching for his shaving cream, only to stop short and look back at his friend, “can I use this on my ass?” 

“If you put that anywhere near your ass, I’ll kill you with it,” Alec warned with wide eyes. 

“Oh yeah,” Owen said, slowly smiling as he lowered the razor down to his backside. 

“Murder. Expect murder,” Alec yelled as the pair began to laugh. 

Oddly, it was what Owen needed. 

 

*

 

The Syrian sun beat down, the soldiers running their morning drill with Owen guiding them. It took most of the morning and the men usually ran without shirts, letting themselves get into shape and feel energised for their day. Owen, ever the man for good times, had an amazing chant to sing with the men. Alec, at the back of the pack had yet to join in. 

_ “I’m a barbie girl! In a barbie world!”  _ Owen yelled. 

_ “Life in plastic! It’s fantastic!”  _ The entire camp sang back, regardless if they were running or just nearby and setting up communication efforts for the day. 

_ “You can brush my hair!” _

_ “Undress me everywhere!”  _

_ “Imagination!”  _

_ “Life is your creation!”  _

_ “Come on Barbie, let's go party!”  _ Owen yelled with a deep voice. 

_ “Ah ah ah, yeah!”  _ The group called back with a higher pitch than before and it made Owen falter when he sang his next part

_ “Come on Barbie, let's go party!”  _

_ “Ooh woo! Ooh woo!”  _

_ “Come on Barbie, let's go party!”  _

_ “Ah ah ah, yeah!”  _

_ “Come on Barbie, let's go party!”  _

_ “Ooh woo! Ooh woo!”  _

Owen called out a massive holler, the group calling back, just as Owen repeated the song along with the men. 

Eight months, Alpha teams tour almost over, and most likely extended regardless if they wanted to go home. Their camp was built around an old chapel, US built probably by the style of it, and the rest of the camp was built around it over the years. They weren’t directly under attack, nor were they seeking it out. The Descendants unit was there for protection and conservation of the area as a coming construction crew from the states was arriving, and making sure the area was safe for all residents. 

Among the days, long and filled with playful moments with soldiers, the units all had duties that must be carried out. With UN workers in the area, as well as some other US helpers coming in a few months, the soldiers were sent out to scout areas and find landmines and bombs that may hurt US citizens and residents of the area. 

Sitting in the jeep, eyes shut and breathing in the air, Owen heard the rest of the unit humming and talking amongst themselves as they used their metal detectors across the ground. Owen watched on - well….watched was a loose word. Alec watched. Owen reclined. It wasn’t long before Owen heard footsteps coming closer to him. 

“Are you seriously sleeping right now?” Alec asked. Owen stretched out, eyes remaining closed as he baked in the sun. 

“I was thinking about how our single unit could achieve world peace. Just imagine it, Alec. You, me, and -” Owen lost the wind as Alec punched him in the stomach, making his eyes finally open and to get his feet off the dashboard. Alec offered his drink to Owen.

“Do you want some ice coffee?” 

Owen picked up his bottle, “I prefer mineral water,” he smirked. The two shared a smile before their comms crackled into sound. 

“This is Piccolo. Undetonated explosive was found, marking it down now,” Barry said, and Owen looked to Alec, shrugging as they both jumped and headed to the spot. By the time Alec and Owen had made it to the zone, the rest of Alpha team were waiting around, watching as Barry was already in his bomb gear, inspecting the active explosive.

“It looks like a Russian explosive from a while back,” Barry explained over comms, and Owen crossed his arms. 

“Is it still live?” Owen asked. 

“The blast radius is pretty high. We should be careful,” Alec said quickly after. 

“What should we do? If we report it to command, he’ll tell us not to touch it until we get authorisation from higher up. Probably even the Russians,” Barry said, and Owen sighed, rubbing at his forehead. 

“Sergeant O’Halligan, what is my motto?” Owen asked and Alec scoffed, ducking his head as Barry laughed over the comms. Cian smiled. 

“Easy going, carefree, and no headaches.” 

“Sergeant Cruthers, what causes headaches?” Owen asked, and Lowery stood to attention, listing Owen’s pet peeve. 

“First, letters asking for cooperation. Second, letters asking for cooperation. Third, letters asking for cooperation,” he said, finishing it with a sneaking smile, though he tried to hide it. 

“Let’s take care of this,” Owen ordered, turning to the men around him. “I, the commanding officer, will take full responsibility,” he nodded and Barry continued to disarm the explosive. 

 

*

 

“Who did it? Who authorised you to do this?” Simon yelled. Owen and Alec stood at attention, listening to their lieutenant colonel become even more stressed out as he yelled. “I know you two are far from home, but you can’t ignore the orders of a superior officer. I told you to get rid of blind shells, and let other teams work with the active bombs,” he said suddenly banging on his desk before eyeing the two of them. “Who was it? Who is taking responsibility for this?” 

Owen stepped forward, nodding to Masrani. “As far as I remember, my deputy didn’t stop me,” he said, turning to Alec who looked at Owen with betrayal in his eyes, hiding a smirk anyway, “why didn’t you stop me? You know how much I love writing letters asking for cooperation!” Owen was about to continue when Masrani sighed heavily.

“Oh please stop,” he groaned, “I’m about to have a stroke. Both of you, pack your kits!” he yelled, ordering them back to camp and rubbing at his temples. 

Back at the camp, the two ran lap after lap of the camp with their kits strapped to their backs, keeping up a decent pace as they made their way around. When the other troops started to make fun of them each lap around, Alec was becoming increasingly more irritated. It only became clear to Owen when his singing became unappreciated. 

_ “She’s a killer queen!”  _

“Oh god, Owen please stop singing!” Alec groaned, stopping to pant out his exhaustion. Owen jogged in place next to him. 

“I’m trying to make it through Queen’s entire discography,” he beamed. Then, a rage built in Alec’s features and Owen could see his best friend getting ready for a sprint. 

“Come here, you giant pain in my ass!” 

_ “Gunpowder, gelatin, dynamite with a laser beam!”  _ Owen scream sang as he ran away from Alec who chased behind, very close to him for most of their final lap. Owen did, however, manage to sing most of Queen’s discography. 

A few days later, when his limbs didn’t ache as much from pushing himself in those last few laps, he walked the camp, observing the troops. Along his journey, he noticed a private digging a ditch, but it made Owen a little confused.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and the private perked, immediately coming to attention. He wasn’t tall, but he was on his way of getting fit like many other soldiers, hair shaved down like many new soldiers and almost perfectly pristine like new recruits usually tried to be.

“Sir! Private Rickard Dunn. I’m digging a drainage ditch.” 

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Owen said, taking his uniform jacket off, the heat making his t-shirt stick to him. Shaking the material from his skin, he took the shovel in hand, instructing how to hold the shovel, “if you dig like that, you’re going to hurt yourself. If you shovel like this, it’s better at getting into the soil,” he explained, pushing the shovel into the soil and snapping it up, only for the handle to break in half at the force. 

“I was being careful  _ not _ to hurt myself. Oh shit, sir. You’re bleeding,” the private said, pointing out the cut across Owen’s hand. 

Looking at the cut on his hand, Owen thought of  _ her _ . “I actually got hurt while shovelling,” Owen laughed to himself. 

“Stay still, you need to get treated,” the private said, and before Owen even realised it, the private was writing something on Owen’s forearm. 

“Hey. Attention,” Owen ordered and the private complied, “at ease. Attention,” he ordered again, and he followed suit. Owen scoffed, finally realising Who the private really was. Alec clapped Owen on the shoulder, nodding to the private. 

“What’s going on?” he asked and Owen shook his hand off. 

“Did you bring him here like he was some sort of puppy?” he asked, crossing his arms. 

“He’s adorable,” Alec shrugged and Rick grinned. “What do you need?” he asked the private and replied in a formal tone.

“Wine and sour cream.” 

Owen furrowed his brow at Alec who explained. “We’re making beef stroganoff for Barry’s birthday. Apparently, Rick is an amazing cook,” he gestured and the private tried to seem less proud of the achievement. He looked happier….Owen felt better that he was here. 

“I’m in charge of supplying the wine!” Owen called, racing off as he grabbed his jacket. 

“Not alone, you’re not!” Alec said, chasing after his friend. The pair hopped into the jeep and made their way to Damascus. 

 

*

 

The friends had found the American bar about a week after arriving, knowing some of the main staff after a while. There was a bartender that arrived about a month before, and she was the nicest - and scariest - bartender the place had. So, the two men got along with her immediately. “I’m getting the sour cream for you, just wait here,” she said, placing a wine bottle in front of Owen. Her skin was a dark tan, fitting in with most locals, but as far as they knew, she was completely American.

“The wine, though. That’s new or?” Owen asked. 

“Older than you and I combined,” she raised her brow, leaning over the other side of the bar. 

“Nice,” Owen nodded. 

“And here’s the cheap one for the food,” she winked, handing it to Alec. 

“What did you say your name was again?” Owen smiled and Alec jabbed him in the ribs. 

“I’m not single, captain. Stop trying to hit on me,” she shook her head, and Owen scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. 

“I want to thank you! Not date you!” Owen called out and he laughed. 

“Logan,” she reminded and walked over to the bar’s storeroom. Alec leaned over to Owen, whispering in his ear, watching Logan move around the storeroom. 

“You think we should tell Cian that his girlfriend is in Syria yet?” he asked and Owen shook his head. 

“Nah, we’ll send him here once and we’ll tail him,” Owen suggested,  “You think she’ll slap him?” 

“I think he’ll cry,” Alec pointed out and Owen gasped. 

“Oh, I like that better!” 

“Right?” Alec exclaimed, both smiling at each other and concealing it by the time that Logan came back. She handed over the sour cream - a resource that not many Syrian places had - especially selling to American soldiers.

The two soldiers drank ice water, escaping the heat, they watched as a young American woman walked in - blonde hair and light skin, she looked like the typical American woman, but completely out of her element in the middle of Syria. 

“Logan, did you get what I asked for?” she said, leaning over the bar. 

“Sure did,” she replied, handing over a glock, “be careful with it,” she warned. For a tourist to carry a firearm...was dangerous, and the two soldiers exchanged cautious looks. 

“It’s quite heavy, how do you use it?” the woman asked, pointing the gun quickly at Owen and Alec. Acting on instinct, Owen snatched the gun back, releasing it from her grasp and flipping it into his own. When it was his, he turned the gun on her. 

“You...are not good with guns. If you aren’t good with them, you shouldn’t have them,” he explained. 

“Give it back!” she said, launching forward, trying to take the gun, but Owen snapped the barrel back, loading the gun.

“I don’t know. Why did you buy something you can’t use?” he said, disassembling the firearm in front of her. She gasped, hands bound and angry. 

“I didn’t buy it to kill someone. I bought it to protect myself, that’s all,” she said, snatching all the components up and walking away, “asshole,” she whispered as she left and Alec chuckled underneath his breath. 

“Who was that?” Owen said to Logan. 

“There are two things we don’t sell here,” she said, pouring the men more water. “Women and information.” 

 

*~*~*

 

The hospital routine became second nature to her, much like her old job. She’d do the morning show, answer questions and talk briefly to the hosts before going on her rounds. They had changed since becoming the star of the hospital. She was becoming more recognised by colleagues, and was talked to on the street by others in the hospital. Her patients, however, were exclusive to her alone. 

Those with the deepest pockets and the largest want of discretion came to her.

Paternity tests. 

Elites with sex drive problems. 

Mistresses that were hiding out in hospital suites until the wives leave home again. 

If someone had enough money - they could get away with murder and Claire would be the one to rewrite the history of it. 

That was Claire’s job for the most part - pretending and faking medical records, and it drove her nuts. But she couldn’t complain - and she knew that because the first time she did, her job was threatened. 

The type of people she was now treating was different than before. Her interactions….a little less than savoury, but they proved to be quite a laugh between her and the attending nurses she had afterwards. 

In the midst of her chaos, she always came by to give her past colleagues lunch when they didn’t want to get the hospital food yet again. She sat with Karen and Vivian when she could, eating along with the nurses and other doctors she missed when she did her rounds. The promotion of sorts was good….but she still felt something missing. 

The last eight months felt like they had flown by, Claire could barely believe it had been that long. On the nights she visited the hospital, she’d slip away, finding her way to the roof and walking along the tarmac, remembering the last moments of him. 

The way she watched him go, the hidden jokes they shared on their first date. 

_ Claire lit the candle behind her. “Did you miss me?” he asked. Claire pursed her lips, knowing her cheeks would flush.  _

_ “Funnily enough, I did,” she said, turning back to Owen, “what about you?”  _

_ “I missed you a lot,” he replied, tilting his head, “what’s with the candle?” _

_ “It’s our first date, I wanted to set the mood,” she explained. _

_ “Put it in the middle,” Owen said, leaning forward to try and get it.  _

_ “No!” Claire squeaked, pushing his arm away and leaning her elbow on the couch. “I want the light behind me. I look prettier with the light there,” she said and saw Owen chew on his bottom lip, “don’t move, I calculate the angle between me, you and the candle,” she said, concealing her smile as much as possible. Claire stayed in place, making sure she stayed in front of the candle to make her point. Owen shook his head, picking at his food. When he turned away from her, she saw the gash up on his forehead. It didn’t seem deep but it had a bruise surrounding the area.  _

_ “By the way, you’re injured again. Was it shoveling again?” Claire said, pointing it out. Owen dropped his fork and leaned an elbow onto the coffee table.  _

_ “What do you think the odds are that I hurt myself while shoveling?” _

_ “Pretty low,” she remarked and he let his tongue suck against his teeth. _

_ “You’d be wrong,” he said and winked at her. “You don’t have enough time to wash your hair?” he asked, and Claire shrugged.  _

_ “I practically live in the OR,” she huffed. She perked suddenly, licking at her lips. “Do you know how sexy I am in the OR? You can only see this much, but I think I’m still hot,” she remarked, winking at Owen. He gave a defeated sigh.  _

_ “Jeez, where is that person. I want to be go out with her,” he said, a devilish smile on his face.  _

_ “Stop,” Claire smacked his thigh, trying not to smile at his joke.  _

The memory felt fresh and yet distant, something she wanted to hold onto, but it was tainted by the aftermath. In the mess of what they briefly were, he was kind, funny - a light in the darkness of her love life. And she loved the joy she had with him. 

“I haven’t had the chance to be sexy lately,” Claire sighed as she walked from the roof and went to meet Karen. 

 

*

 

“Syria? What’s in Syria?” Zia asked, smacking her tongue against her teeth, trying to get something loose from her meal.

Karen put down her food and relaxed back into her chair in the cafeteria. “The Hammond group that owns the hospital is building an environmentally friendly power plant. They’re sending doctors and nurses to help out in the area.” 

“They say it’s volunteer work, but if you have no money, no strings to pull, you might end up there,” Xander said after, sighing as he combed hair from his face, “then there’s me. No money, no strings, and no luck.” 

“That’s crazy. You’re warm hearted and good looking,” Karen scoffed, as the rest of the table gasped and teased.

“You think so,” Xander said, and Karen nodded, seemingly unphased by it all. She’d been out of the dating game too long. 

“I’ll join the medical service team,” Franklin interrupted the failed flirting. 

“Franklin...you barely like doing rounds, why on earth would you go?” Zia replied, reclined in her chair. 

“I need experience,” he groaned. 

“Plus less work,” Xander sounded back. 

“I never said that,” Franklin said weakly. The table laughed as someone walked over to them. Before they realised it, the owner of the hospital, Eli Mills, stood next to Claire. Everyone jolted up out of their seats, surprised he even knew where the cafeteria was. 

“Doctor Dearing,” he greeted. 

“Mister Mills,” Claire replied, clearing her throat and cleaning the edges of her mouth. In a sharp suit, glasses the newest in fashion - he looked far more elite than any of the doctors around them. 

“Don’t make plans for this evening, have dinner with me,” he said, before walking away. He walked with a confidence in his strides, hands in his pockets and not even looking back. He had won what he wanted. 

“Did...the owner of the hospital just ask me out?” Claire asked, sitting back down. Karen nodded back. 

“You’re way out of his league,” Zia said with a mouth full of food. 

“Zia,” Karen tried. 

“What? He doesn’t seem all that interesting, and you’ve never spoken to him before. It’s a little weird,” she said, but Claire didn’t think much of it 

 

*

 

She really should have thought about it. 

Standing in a hotel room, not even out of her clothes from that day at work, she felt exhausted. And now this? It was an amazing hotel room, for sure...but not what she anticipated. “What are you doing? Sit down?” Eli said, taking off his suit jacket and placing it over the back of a chair. 

“Are we having dinner here?” she asked.

“We’re not only having dinner,” he said with a smirk. It made her feel dirty. 

“Is this...your idea of nice dinner? Your hotel apartment?” she asked and he shrugged. 

“We can have dinner in, and whatever happens...happens,” he replied, stepping closer to her. 

Claire scoffed. “Is this how you hook up with women?”

“I’m very direct and impatient. We can order dinner. Until the food gets here, why don’t you have a shower?” he said and Claire stuck her tongue in her cheek.  _ Nope. Don’t do it. You’re not going to do this Claire. You’re better than this! _ “Or do you want me to go first?” he said, unbuttoning his waist coat. Claire bound her hand in her bag and walked over to Eli. “That’s more like it,” he replied, just as Claire stopped in front of him. She hurled her bag up above her head and Eli braced. Staying in that position, Eli lowered his hands, unsure of what was happening. “What? I thought you were going to hit me,” he explained. 

“I am,” Claire replied, bringing that bag down over his head….and kneeing him in the stomach. Claire walked out of the hotel room and went home. 

She really should have listened to Zia. 

The lesbians always know. 

 

*

 

“You could have called me!” Karen yelled at her. Claire groaned, banging her head against Vivian’s desk softly. 

“It was….gross and disgusting. I just wanted to get home and shower,” Claire said, combing back her hair as Vivian reached over the desk. 

“You know he could have -” 

“I beat him with my bag. There’s no way he would have tried it,” Claire replied, sitting back into her chair before sinking down. 

“Yeah, you’ve got that imaginary soldier to keep you company at night,” Karen whispered and Claire kicked at her sister’s shin. 

“I’ll rip out your tongue,” Claire snapped. 

“Didn’t disagree,” Vivian said in a soft voice. 

“I don’t think of him anymore.” 

“Doubt it,” Karen said. 

“We have to get to that meeting,” Claire groaned, standing up. 

“Oh shit, Eli is definitely going to be there.” 

“Kill me, I’d prefer it,” she said as Karen stood and pushed on her back. Claire clawed at the door frame of Vivian’s office as the two women pushed on Claire to move. 

In the meeting, Claire leaned on Vivian’s side, trying to hide herself behind the doctor in front of her. The meeting was on a range of topics to deal with the hospital - what doctors are using the most of, what they should be doing in order to handle drugged up patients or gunshot patients in the area. And towards the end, the only topic left was the Syrian medical team. All the doctors in the meeting didn’t really want to go. Many of them had foreign aid experience in the past, and they knew what war torn countries looked like - the patients even more so. Claire just wanted to be ignored the entire time. 

Eli cleared his throat as he moved on. “The next item on the agenda is the medical service team in Syria. I was thinking of taking volunteers, but I think we should send our best doctors. I’ve decided to assign Doctor Dearing as the leader of the medical service team,” he suggested and Claire poked her head up, watching as the room turned their attention onto her. In the first time in a very long time, Claire felt entirely small in the view of others. Eli grinned, challenging her with a raise of his brow. “It’s not a five star hotel or anything, but we’re constructing a new building. Please accept, Doctor Dearing.”  

She didn’t get a chance to answer in her dumbstruck moment, and it gave Eli the chance to clap over her, the rest of the doctors joining in. 

Well fuck. 

 

*~*~*

 

The med unit shipping container was being flown in, air dropped by a chopper. The stationed unit at the Descendants camp helped guide it, as Owen watched from a distance. Alec walked over, paper in hand. Then, he stopped short, looking at Owen and sighed. 

“Did you see the list of the medical service team?” he asked. 

“Yep.”

“The leader, it’s that doctor, right?” Alec handed over the sheet. 

“Yep.” 

“Does she know you’re here?” he asked and Owen shrugged. 

“Doubt it,” he replied, leading against the stone pillar of a destroyed home. Alec suddenly smiled, punching at Owen’s arm. 

“Guess you weren’t supposed to just pass by,” he smirked, and Owen chuckled, watching the med container finally hit the ground. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he said softly, the two friends smiling to one another. 

 

*~*~*

 

The medical staff all stood on the airport tarmac, a dozen or so doctors all hanging around. Of the selected, Xander was right - he had the worst luck, as did most of the people Claire worked with. Karen, Franklin and Zia were all brought along, and some other doctors and nurses that Claire had worked with over time. 

“My god, it’s hot!” Xander complained, leaning on Karen, who shoved him off quickly. Claire felt it - she was wearing shorts and a tank top, a stupid blazer over the top to look nice and a thin scarf over her head to shield her face from the sun.

“When are we getting out of here?” Karen groaned, fanning herself with the flannel Xander was wearing. It seemed like the entire staff dressed nicely, but forgot the fucking heat was also a factor. 

“The UN said they were sending a chopper and some people to help us. Let’s just stay here,” Claire reassured. Franklin’s phone soon started to ring, and he groaned as he pulled it out of his pocket. 

“Hello?” he snapped, a very un-Franklin response, but Claire tossed it up to the heat. “Mister Mills!” he said, voice rising in pitch. He began stuttering, and moved in soft shuffles. “Ah, yes, I can -” he started before walking carefully to Claire. “Claire, he wants you,” Franklin murmured and she rolled her eyes. Taking the phone, she pressed it to her ear. 

“This is Claire,” she said. 

“Isn’t it hot over there? If you have a change of heart, let me know. I have so many reasons to bring you back to the states,” Eli said, voice filled with a seduction like quality. To Claire, it felt more like a greased up version - a snake slipping through grass to find her.  

“No thanks,” she said, “I knew you were an asshole when you lured me into a hotel room, but I didn’t think you’d be this low and despicable,” she replied, feeling the eyes around her suddenly lock onto her. Then, the whispers started. “Let me tell you something. When I get back, and with all my new high paying patients, I’ll open my own clinic, and leave your stupid hospital. Expect my resignation when I get back,” she snapped, hanging up the phone. 

Turning back to the group, she saw the hung jaws of her staff - the shocked faces and the look on everyone’s faces. Karen shrugged and Xander trying his hardest not to whisper, but he was already going to Karen and saying something in her ear. Handing Franklin back his phone, Claire scanned the faces, sighing. 

“You all know why I’m here now, let’s not discuss it ever again,” she regarded, and Karen gave Claire a thumbs up. Rolling her eyes, Claire looked over into the distance, noticing a massive military chopper. Military? As the chopper came closer, their rolling luggage started to dash off, and a few went to retrieve it. Claire’s scarf flew from her head and started towards where the chopper was slowly landing. 

Claire watched at the helicopter landed, the back entrance open...and US soldiers walk towards the doctors. There were five soldiers, all built for combat and their uniform sleeves rolled all the way up. Claire reached for her scarf on the ground, only for it to swiftly cast off with the wind again, back towards the group of doctors. As she brought her attention back to the soldiers that were closer now than before, she let her eyes squint, watching one of the men walk forward. He was tall, with shaggy dirty blond hair, black sunglasses covering his eyes, and a swagger in his walk that felt like she had seen it all before. 

“It can’t be,” Claire whispered, the figure walking getting increasingly more familiar, “oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she swore. 

Why, of all things, did he still have to look so fucking gorgeous. The uniform was bold and clung to his body in all the right places. As Owen moved, he kept his shoulders straight, eyes directly on duty, and unmistakably, not looking at Claire at all. Not an ounce of recognition was filling his face. When she watched him, he walked right past her, going to the pack of doctors that watched the soldiers file in. 

She was shaken. And he was beautifully solid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters you read that you don't recognise are original characters from pre-existing stories of mine. If you want any clarification on any characters, their design or stories they're attached to, please let me know.  
> Delays for each chapter, as they take a while to write - sorry in advance!


	3. Acting Tough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapters coming in the new year! I would hope for chapter 4 this year, but gotta pace myself! Enjoy this! I love this fic a lot! So, as always, my girl Clare (@doesitsaysassonmyuniform on tumblr) fucking pulling through with the edits this time around and killing me with her beta abilities.

It felt slow, the way the hot air moved past her, as Owen took strides towards the doctors and nurses. Claire felt frozen, the heat sticking her into place. It wasn’t as if Claire never wanted to see him again - hell, she didn’t really want to break up with him, if one could call it that. For her, it was the unrealistic standards she placed - stuck between wanting him and feeling hurt by his absence. And now, he’s here…and he’s so close. Claire couldn’t even be happy about it. At least he was alive. 

“Isn’t that -” Claire heard Zia say.

“Yep,” Karen replied. 

“And he just -” 

“Yep.” 

“Oh, she is gonna love this,” Zia scoffed, covering her mouth as Owen stood right beside Claire’s scarf, it sitting right next to him as though it waited for him specifically. Putting his hands on his hips, Claire watched his back, the strong build and perfectly square shoulders of a man with control written into his body. 

“During your stay in Syria, The Descendants Camp will be in charge of your safety. I’m the Commander, Captain Owen Grady. Welcome.” He nodded, and the group of doctors replied with haphazard hellos and greetings. The other soldier that Claire had met - Alec, stepped forward.

“From here to our destination with Descendants, we’ll be moving in the CH47 behind us,” he explained, gesturing to the three other soldiers to move to the group,“you can only carry what you can fit in the duffle bags we’ve provided for you,” he explained. “The rest will be flown to us tomorrow evening, so don’t worry about anything - it will come to you soon,” he reassured. “We’ll be leaving ten minutes from now, so be quick,” Owen looked down to his feet, noticing the scarf and bending to pick it up. He looked back at Claire and walked to her slowly.

“His boots hit the ground in heavy thuds, and only stopped once he was a few feet from Claire.” He looked to her before extending the scard. Claire looked down at it, reaching for it tentatively. When grabbing it, her fingers grazed his, barely even touched, but it was enough for both of them to sigh at the interaction. 

Owen didn’t say a word as he handed over the scarf. Claire didn’t even know how to respond to him -  with the way he seemed to look beyond her. She felt like she was nothing in his eyes. They parted as Claire had to pack her bag along with the rest of the medical staff. She clutched at the scarf as she shoved it into her bag and did her best not to sneak looks at the man. 

Karen tried to talk to Claire the entire trip over to the camp, but the roar of the engines drowned out all conversation. Through the flight, Claire looked at her hands, not wanting to face her sister, and knowing if she remotely glanced at the soldier at the other end of the helicopter that everyone would ask questions. She felt too uncomfortable to even think about looking up to anyone.

Claire walked past the soldiers, only to be led by the youngest of the five in the company. He introduced himself as Cian, which Claire managed to say correctly to his surprise. The Irish and Scottish bloodlines were strong with them, and the pair laughed at the joint connection. It felt somewhat relieving to be able to get a conversation with someone that wasn’t going to be about how awkward this was. He was nice, and seemed to have an easy going spirit about him. He seemed less strict than the others around the doctors, willing to have a laugh at this moment rather than the rest who had square shoulders and didn’t allow themselves to breathe.

The walk from the chopper to the middle of the camp was short, but worth the heat as they arrived, the waiting soldiers beamed and yelled “Welcome!” as they all appeared. The soldiers raced over, greeting each with their code name, and where they were stationed - apparently for security reasons. The women suspected otherwise. It was a lot to take in all at once, but it seemed as though all the single men wanted to chat with the female doctors and nurses amongst those stationed there. All the girls laughed, except for Zia who asked bluntly where the female soldiers were. 

One of the soldiers, Barry (or Snoopy as the others referred to him), led Karen and Claire to their own tent, giving them some basic information on the camp and how it ran. Their tent was with the other doctors and nurses, and on the other side of the the med containers which would be constructed within the next day or two. At one end of the camp was the dining area with a large table for lunch, and breakfast and dinner would be held in the chapel, on the other side of the camp. After that, he saluted the women and left.

The tent was a large size - big enough to stand and walk around in, with two cots on either side and a shelves for each person to put their things in. It was a reasonable spot to sleep, but Claire fell asleep on the floor most nights, so who was she to judge. Karen heaved her duffle onto Claire’s bed and collapsed down onto it, smiling up at her sister. She took up the entire bed, and Claire rolled her eyes. Picking up her own duffle, Claire threw it onto Karen, who groaned at the sudden crash of weight onto her. Claire laughed, watching her sister curl a little. 

“Not much to put away when our stuff hasn’t arrived,” Karen groaned, sitting up right as she rubbed at her stomach. 

“I’m too tired to do anything anyway,” Claire shrugged, sitting down next to Karen, who looked at her through squinting eyes. 

“Knock, knock,” a voice sounded, before moving past the fabric of their large tent. The sisters stood and looked to the soldier that couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six. He looked younger than other soldiers. “How have you been?” he asked with a bright smile on his face. Claire and Karen looked at each other, trying to see if either of them knew him. “Don’t you remember me?” he asked, clearing his throat. He was average height, dark brown hair with golden hazel eyes. Claire felt like she... “I uh...ran away from the ER,” he said with a laugh and Claire covered her mouth. 

“Oh! The phone thief!” she exclaimed. Karen chuckled, beaming as she recognised him. 

“Private Rickard Dunn. Yes, that’s me,” he stated, before turning into 

“What are you doing here? It’s so weird,” Karen said, looking at him fondly like he was her child. 

“I know,” Claire agreed. “Jump up and down,” she nodded and Rickard frowned.

“What?” 

“Was it your right ankle?” Claire tried to remember. 

“Ah!” Rickard realised before jumping as high as he could up and down, landing heavily on his ankles. “Thanks to you I got fit and healthy and joined,” he said, breathing a little heavier and smiling to the sisters. 

“You don’t steal anymore do you?” Karen asked, crossing her arms. Rickard waved it off. 

“Nah, it was a hard time back then, but I’m living a better life now,” he explained and the sisters looked at each other before pouncing on the unsuspecting soldier. They hugged him tightly and told him to act right for the rest of the time the see him. He laughed and nodded to their request. 

After they had unpacked their duffles, the two separated, as Claire wanted to make sure she knew the paths to take to and from each area as effectively as possible. If she could anticipate how to get places, she could probably successfully avoid a certain person. Claire wasn’t someone to shy away from people or awkward situations, but this...was different. It was incomplete from when they ended and felt even more so. They weren’t even together and it felt like they were. 

Lost in thought, Claire tripped slightly, feeling the rubble of the dirt ground in her shoe. Untying her shoelaces, she took her shoe off and inspected inside, dumping it out on the ground. Before she realised it, she was being passed by Owen. In his hands he held a box, seemingly looking at the wrapping as he walked straight past her as though she never existed. He went inside the chapel and Claire lost sight of him. 

Huffing, a little irritated by the non-exchange, Claire put her shoe back on and walked off to find anything else to do. Anything would be better at that moment. 

 

*~*~*

 

Owen hid against the wall in the chapel, watching Claire from the mirror on the inside. It was positioned perfectly on her. He watched as she angrily put on her sneaker and move off. Owen hit his head against the wall and he looked at the box again. He really wished this was for him. Of all the things Owen knew, ignoring her was not one of them - give it up to heartbreak or a missed chance - he didn’t want to fall into those sudden feelings again. But she was Claire....a beautiful, breathtaking woman that stunned him with only a look.

Walking up the stairs to the office, seeing Alec on the computer, typing away on some report that Owen probably failed to write. Smacking the package down, Owen pushed it towards Alec. He continued to work and not pay attention to the box that sat in front of him. Owen cleared his throat and pushed the box again. 

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked. Alec glanced at it before going back to work. 

“I’ll open it later.” 

Owen clicked his tongue, “Nope. Not gonna happen. I can’t wait,” he said, hands on his hips “what if it’s chocolate?” 

“It’s probably an explosive,” Alec replied, no change in tone. Owen groaned.

“You only die once,” he said, and Alec looked up at Owen, confused. Owen stepped back and said “let’s open it.”

Alec chuckled, standing and opening up the package. He started smiling, taking out some gifts. “Beef jerky for Lowery. Guitar strings for Cian. And Barry’s shows he’s missed on DVD.” Owen jumped forward, taking the beef jerky and taking a piece between his teeth, chewing on it as he looked at all the presents. 

“You dumped her and yet she’s sending all of us gifts. What does she see in you?” Owen asked, sighing as he looked at the descriptions on some of the dramas Barry had got. “Where’s my present?” he asked. Alec reached in and pulled out a letter. 

“Here.” Alec shoved the box into Owen’s hands. Empty. The box was empty.

“She’s unbelievable,” Owen scoffed, watching as Alec read through the letter, it seemed short - a small piece of paper with little writing on it. “By the way, she didn’t get you anything,” he mentioned as Alec folded the piece of paper back over. 

“My present is on its way,” he said softly before turning to Owen. “I think Lieutenant Young is coming here.” Owen leaned on the desk, folded his arms and smirked at Alec. 

“You’re shitting me,” he scoffed and Alec shook his head, handing over the letter. 

_ See you soon - Z  _

 

*~*~*

 

“Sir, Lieutenant Zara Young was ordered to transfer to Syria with the Descendant company as a member of the medical team.” Zara’s father sat in his chair, looking coldly at her. When she was young, it frightened her when he gave her such a look. As she grew, she just understood that was her dad; cold, unfeeling, very protective. Being raised by her English mother, Zara had a mostly British accent, and rarely spilled to her American. Even with her dual citizenship, many people thought she was strictly from the UK. Until the army. Her father pressured her to go into medicine to work as a doctor in warzones. She complied. It was some of the only time that her father took much interest in her.  

“I’ll return safe and sound,” she commented as he remained silent. Clearing his throat, he looked at her, cautiously. 

“You have to go there,”he said, and Zara knew what his tone meant;  _ don’t go. I know who's there and I don’t want you around him.  _

“Yes sir, I’m happy to go,” she said, confident in her conviction. 

“Like I’ve told you hundreds of times before. I like Owen Grady. He’s General material. I want him to be apart of this family,” he said bluntly, and Zara’s hands bound together behind her back. “You do realise you’re making Alec Warren’s life more difficult,” he explained, putting his hands together. Zara huffed, squaring her shoulders and challenging him. 

“You can’t pull rank when dealing with this, General. Do you want to lose one of your best men?” she asked.

“He understood me and decided to remain a soldier,” he said, Zara sucked in a breath. 

“I’m still mad at him about that. But he’s a real soldier, and I love him for that. I’m holding onto that man,” she said, and her father shifted uncomfortably. “If you interfere with my transfer, you’ll lose more than just Lieutenant Young, you’ll lose a daughter too,” she spat, and she finally watched Craig Young look frightened. “Sir.”

Zara saluted him, turning on her heels sharply, and walking out of his office, not waiting for his order. 

 

*~*~*

 

Claire huffed, phone pressed to her ear as she walked around some of the ruins towards the fence around the camp. On the other end, Vivian talked about the hospital. On Claire’s end, she talked about how awkward this all waas. “Really? Zara’s boyfriend and that guy are there?” she asked. 

“Yes! I was so nervous at the airport, I basically froze the moment I saw him. How pathetic,” Claire chuckled, feeling her chest go tight as she thought of how they interacted. 

“You know, it could be destiny that you’ve been reunited like this,” she teased and Claire rolled her eyes, “aren’t you happy to see him?” Claire kicked at the ground, watching as the stones around her feet moved a few feet in front of her. She shrugged, trying to work through it all herself. 

“Not really. It’s kinda awkward. The last time I saw him, I dumped him in a coffee shop before we even finished one date. It’s just sad,” she explained, sighing out her discomfort. 

“Hello?” she heard Vivian say. “Claire, can you hear me?”

“Viv? Hello?” Claire said as the line failed. “Ah!”  Looking down, she realised there was no way she was getting any sort of connection back up. At least not at this side of the camp. “I guess this is the middle of nowhere,” she sighed, putting her phone away and glancing around at her surroundings. It was a dusty and barren place, where something could have grown a long time ago, but it was just dirt and dust now. 

Up along the side of the camp sat an old army tank, left and now overgrown with weeds and grass. It was a stark contrast to the camp itself that lacked all of that. Across the area little kids roamed, playing with things they’d found and speaking Arabic to one another. Claire hadn’t learnt Arabic and knew very little of the language at all. She watched them happily play, until she saw one start to lick at metal from the ground, another trying to also taste the old thing. 

“Hey! Hey, don’t lick that. It’ll make you sick,” Claire called out, and the pair looked to her before continuing to lick at the scrap. Claire started to climb over the fence, “wait there,” she said, jumping over and walking over to the children. Handing over a fruit bar, she took the toxic thing from the child’s hand. “Here,” she said, and the girl smiled as she unravelled the bar. 

Before Claire knew it, she was being surrounded by the kids, asked something in a language she couldn’t understand. They tugged on her jacket, hands raised up to her face and the same word repeated to her as they begged for something. She couldn’t figure it out, and it felt claustrophobic to stand in the middle of ten kids, desperate for food.

“If you don’t have enough for everyone, don’t give them anything,” Owen’s voice spooked her and Claire stiffened. She relaxed as he walked over. He pointed back to fence, where a sign read ‘restricted zone’ indicating that she shouldn’t be over the barrier. “You don’t listen to many rules, do you?” he asked, hands on his hips. 

“I didn’t -” 

Claire didn’t get to finish what she was saying when Owen suddenly started speaking Arabic, the kids listening intently as he spoke softly. He didn’t seem intimidating, more of guidance in his words. Then, they all suddenly replied, cheering as they raced off to a section of the fence where they could get through. Claire watched them all sneak into the camp and she turned to him. 

“What did you tell them?” she asked and Owen shrugged.

“If they didn’t go away, I’d start shooting them,” he said, barely changing his expression. Claire scoffed. 

“Don’t lie to me, you’re not good at it,” she crossed her arms and Owen stepped in towards her, invading her space and making her suck in a breath. Why, after everything, did he make her feel so nervous, like a teenage crush?

“I call this a  _ joke _ ,” he said, leaning in and tilting his head to her, waiting for her response. Claire rolled her eyes and began walking away to the entrance the kids walked through. A few steps away from Owen, she immediately stopped, hearing a metallic click underneath her foot. She felt the shift and the definite click from something being pressed on. 

“What the hell was that?” she asked, turning back to Owen. He was heading towards the fence they had both climbed over and turned back to her when she spoke. 

“What?” 

“Something made a noise under my foot,” she said, and Owen frowned, walking to her slowly. It suddenly dawned on her the magnitude of the situation. Her heart started to pound, her hands started to shake, and she was riddled with fear. A foreign feeling, but one that made her so fucking anxious she could barely get her words out. “You said this place was restricted, why is it restricted?” she asked, voice shaking. Owen replied without hesitation. 

“There are landmines aro-” 

“Did I just step on a landmine?” she exclaimed loudly. Owen stopped, lips pursing as he looked down at her feet. Claire couldn’t bring herself to look. “What do I do?” she squeaked. Then, Owen started to smile, standing where he was and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Owen!” Claire felt herself start to shake, everything but her foot. She could feel herself breaking, everything coming down and her whole body feeling like a tightly coiled mess. “What do I do?” she asked, a little more desperately and Owen started to crack, chuckling a little under his breath. “Please stop being an asshole and tell me what to do!” she begged, pleading with him for an answer.

“Don’t mo-” he started before cracking up again, his hands on his knees, smacking them as his laughs got harder.

“Are you laughing at me right now? Are you seriously laughing at me!” she screamed, her voice going hoarse and her eyes beginning to water.

“I’m sorry just,” Owen cleared his throat, before stepping towards her, “here,” he said, invading her space, foot shifting right next to hers, and their bodies pressed up against one another. To save herself from falling, Claire clutched tightly onto his shoulders, his hands still on his hips. 

“W-what are you doing?” she stuttered.

“Getting you…” he said slowly, pushing her backwards and himself stepping with her. She was about to protest and pulled herself into his chest and braced for whatever was to come. Eyes shut, she clutched tighter to him. “To step off metal,” he finished, and Claire’s eyes flashed open. 

“What?” Claire said, looking around them, untouched by anything. She looked up to Owen who was smiling down at her. “You knew!” she yelled, pushing on his chest. Rubbing at where her hands hit him, he chuckled.

“We deactivate all the mines around the camp,” he explained, and Claire huffed, the dam walls finally breaking, and the tears started to fall down her cheeks. Owen’s attitude suddenly changed, softening gently as he realised something was wrong. 

“Go fuck yourself,” she swore, moving towards the fence and jumping back over it. 

“Hey!” Owen said, running over and jumping over after her. Claire shoved him against the fence, pushing and hitting at him in every way she could.

“You could have said something to not make me panic! Your bedside manner sucks ass,” she said through a shaking voice, and her punches getting softer as her resolved weakened. Tears made her so fucking weak. She turned on her heels and went back to the camp. 

“I’m sorry, hey!” he yelled after her. Claire hurried her steps, trying to keep a distance between them. 

Claire could smell a festive barbeque raging, coming to the main area to see all members of the camp and some of the kids from before sitting around. Walking past the group, Karen called out to her, “Come join us, Claire! The steaks are amazing!” Claire let her hair fall in front of her face, clearing her throat as she called back. 

“Save some for me! I’ll be right there,” she tried to sound put together, but she could hear the crack in her own voice. Moving towards the drinking fountain, she used the pump to dredge up the water and it sprayed into the large clean bucket. Claire splashed at her face as she heard a conversation behind her. 

“How did you go?” Alec asked someone. 

“I made her cry,” Owen replied in a murmured tone. It was a strange voice for him, somewhat ashamed of himself. 

“Already. Wow. You work quick,” Alec scoffed. 

“Shut up,” Owen spat back to Alec’s laugh. Claire dried her face before walking to the tents. She just wanted to hide for now. “Hey,” Owen called behind her and Claire rushed off, only to have her elbow pulled back softly and Owen to barge in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he apologised and Claire rolled her eyes. 

“Leave me alone,” she snapped, and Owen kept getting in front of her, walking backwards and eyes pleading with her. 

“I’m used to fooling around with the guys. I crossed a line,” he explained, and Claire didn’t want to fall for those green eyes that mixed with worry and sadness. She could forgive them a thousand times if they looked at her anymore. But at that moment, she couldn’t. She had her pride wounded, and he laughed at her worry.

“Yeah, you did!” she replied. 

“I’m really sorry,” Owen defended, hands raised slightly. She could attack him, beat him, and she would guess he’d still apologise to her. 

“Okay,” she nodded. 

The national anthem started to play, the sound ringing over a loudspeaker in the camp. Every soldier suddenly stood and saluted. Claire was about to walk past Owen when he raised his arm to his forehead, staring off into the distance. She looked at this man - someone she knew to be completely full of himself, out for a laugh and joy radiating off of him, to someone who stood so proudly, he couldn’t be anything other than a strict and noble soldier. Owen suddenly took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards the flag that hunt over the chapel. 

There was silence as no one sang, the song continued to play, and the rest of the staff stood, watching the flag solemnly. “It’s really good seeing you again,” Owen said softly, an affection in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. Owen had usually flirted with her, or been outright unfeeling to her. This, a moment of clarity or desperation, he confessed when she couldn’t see him. Maybe it was the only way he could be truthful with her - when her eyes didn’t burn into him, trying to see beneath the surface. 

She could relate. 

It was the same way for her. 

Claire wasn’t sure how to respond, so she stayed silent, letting the anthem finish and staying as close to him as possible. It was her way of saying the same thing. She just couldn’t get her voice out. 

Not now anyway. 

They managed to stay apart for the remainder of the day, Karen taking Claire aside and talking with her for the rest of the night. Claire didn’t mind - she actually found it rather comforting that her sister was here too, just so she could vent about all this mess instead of holding it all in. 

“So, wait, he tricked you?” Karen asked, and Claire huffed, her head in Karen’s lap and looking up at her sister. They shared their large container of twizzlers, Karen putting a piece of her butterfingers bar in between her teeth as she looked down at her sister. Claire’s teeth tugged on the twizzlers, chewing on it as she got more comfortable. 

“He just laughed, he didn’t warn me or tell me, it felt cruel,” she said, crossing her arms, and her brow furrow tightly.

“Well, to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Karen said and Claire sat up abruptly. “He’s been out here for eight months, he knows this camp better than anyone, and he’s used to it being safe,” Karen explained, and shrugged, “and he’s used to joking with guys...who are generally dicks,” to which Claire laughed, concealing her squeaks as Karen shrugged, “...he probably didn’t realise you’d act like such a little bitch.” Karen smirked, biting at her lip as Claire grabbed at a pillow and swatted her sister with it. 

“Hey!” 

“Look, Claire,” Karen laughed, taking the pillow and protecting herself, “sometimes your walls are so high, it’s hard to see past them,” she said and Claire sucked in a breath, “he saw you with your walls all the way down, and he liked it,” Karen smiled, leaning on the pillow.

“Yeah, men always like a vulnerable woman,” Claire scoffed. 

“I think Owen knows you don’t need saving, but maybe he just liked seeing you a little more human,” Karen laughed, throwing the pillow back to Claire, and moving off of Claire’s cot to move to her own. Claire was left in her bed, their lantern dimming as the night drew in, and she was left with her thoughts, wondering if every day was going to be like her first. Clutching to her pillow, Claire cuddled it, hoping her time here would go as quickly as possible.  

In the morning, Claire, Karen, and Zia stood around, brushing their teeth as the soldiers were coming around for their path. Their chanting had woken up the girls, and admittedly, the sisters had been watching them go around the last four times. And each time, the soldiers smiled and waved to the doctors. Zia had even eyed her own soldier at the back. 

“I think they do this every morning,” Karen said, leaning on the gate of the medical staff zone, her teeth freshly brushed. Claire spat out the excess toothpaste in her mouth and joined Karen.

“If they do this every day, I’ll never leave,” Claire sighed dramatically. Karen laughed and continued to watch the distant soldiers as they were coming closer. Shirtless, beautiful soldiers. The female soldier wore a tank top, but Zia didn’t seem to mind. She had a good imagination. 

“Let me know what your plan is so I can move into your old apartment,” Zia laughed behind them at the large bowl of water, still trying to find the soldier of her liking. She was washing her face that morning, and squinting without her glasses. 

They didn’t notice the captain walking up to them. He met at Claire’s side on the other side of the gate, and he waved in her face as she continued to watch the men. Then, Owen got into her line of sight, and blocked the view completely. 

“I guess they woke you up,” he said, almost like an apology. 

“Yeah, can you just move to the side a little bit,” she said, going on her toes, looking past his soldier as they started to run down the hill and wave to the ladies beyond the gate. 

“What’s the schedule for the medical service team?” Owen asked, and Claire ignored him, paying closer attention to the men jogging by. 

“Morning or afternoon?” she said, absentmindedly, and caught the sight of amazing muscular backs. God they were beautiful. 

“Everyone,” Owen suddenly ordered and the group stopped. 

“Sir!” They all replied in sync. 

“You’re dismissed, stop running for the day,” he said, and the group saluted him. 

“Yes sir!” The soldiers all started to run off, keeping their attention on their destination and were clear from Claire’s vision in only a few moments. 

“You’re a buzzkill,” Claire grumbled. 

“Both morning and afternoon, what’s your schedule?” he asked, his smirk making sure she knew; _ I’m your centre of attention now.  _

 

*

 

The medical team all loaded into the med centre, a collection of shipping containers all opened up to create a working space for a little clinic, as well as an operating room towards the back in its own container, in case of major injury. In a nice white and pale blue striped dress, covered by the medical team vest, Claire was feeling a little more in her element. Claire and Zia went over the day - blood tests for all the soldiers, making sure they’re fit and healthy, as well as treating minor injuries and concerns from the construction crew working on the power plant. 

Walking to her desk, some soldiers already sitting at clinic tables with respective doctors, and a bunch more waiting, Claire noticed them following her to her table. Sitting down, she realised that the horde of them followed her and were begging for her to treat them. 

“It’ll hurt a lot more if I draw blood,” she laughed, as Cian poked out his arm to her.

“I don’t mind pain, ma’am,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Cian, I think you’re a flirt,” Claire rolled her eyes, getting the instruments ready in a tray. 

“Naturally,” he winked, before suddenly freaking out, “don’t tell my girlfriend, I flirt with everything,” he shrugged, and Claire shook her head. Then, the sea of men parted for Owen, who walked in behind them. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

“Sir,” The group saluted, and he nodded his response. He saw Claire and turned, moving slowly to another desk. 

“Excuse me! Yeah, Captain, you,” Claire called and Owen turned back, “don’t just leave, everyone needs blood drawn,” she said, pointing to the chair in front of her, and Owen walked awkwardly back to her. Claire put a tourniquet around Owen’s bicep, and prepped his arm.

“It’ll sting a bit,” she said, looking for the spot on the ridge of his elbow where she could stick the needle in. She jabbed at one point and Owen hissed suddenly, “that’s strange, I can’t find a vein,” she said, and Owen leaned in slowly, glancing around to the men that were watching this all very intently.

“I always carry a gun. A fully loaded gun,” he whispered to her. 

“Do you?” she asked, and he nodded. “Then shoot me,” she shrugged and Owen straightened as Claire tried again.  “is this it?”

“Ah!” he hissed, “if you’re still mad at me about what happened yesterday,” he said slowly.

“I’m not as petty as you think,” she smiled, looking down at his arm again, “is this it -” 

“It’s here,” he said, sticking the needle perfectly into his arm. Claire sat stunned, looking back to him and he smiled to her, “put the blood bottle in already.” 

“Right,” Claire said, clearing her throat, finding the blood bottles and putting them at the end to finally draw the blood. Owen watched her, and a wave of embarrassment washed over Claire - she concentrated on his arm and nothing more. 

As Claire was putting a bandage on his arm, there was a loud crash somewhere near the camp that made the entire med centre jump. Doctors became more alert and the soldiers seemed a little more at attention - two different responses, but one of instinct in both regards. Owen got his communicator, patching through to a desired frequency and called to the receiving end. 

“This is the captain, what’s happening at the front gate?” he asked sternly. Claire watched Owen as his features changed. She wasn’t sure how he had so many different sides of him; playful and stern, kind and unfeeling, joy and void of emotion. Maybe it was how he felt when he saw her the day before; the sides he never got to see, he enjoyed the more. 

“Front gate is fine. There’s been a car accident on a mountain road,” Alec’s voice radioed through from the other end. 

“One of the construction crews trucks may have rolled,” Cian offered and Owen took in a deep breath. He gestured to his own team and a few others, making his way out of the med clinic and having the other soldiers in toe. Claire watched him 

 

*~*~*

 

They came upon the crash site quickly, the van turned over several times and down an embankment. They drove there quickly from the camp, and hopped out to try and assess the damage from the top of the ridge. There was little smoke coming from the van, but they couldn’t be sure from the distance they were. From where they stood, it looked to be a UN truck, tipped onto its side. 

“It looks like a UN cargo truck,” Alec said, “we’ll approach and see if there are any survivors,” he said to the following soldiers. Owen nodded to the orders given. He and Alec thought alike - their orders were always the same. Walking down the steep incline, Alec went ahead and saw one of the doors opening on the side of truck. 

“Freeze! Hands up!” he ordered, gun at the ready. On the ground, a little battered and bruised sat a young person, fair skin - probably American. Owen couldn’t see him fully, only from behind as he went to the other side, and saw the other UN worker. Dead in his seat. Tattoo on his arm - one he recognised. T-shirt too tight. Glancing to the other, his shirt was far too loose. 

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m UN. UN.” He raised his hands. Owen snuck inside the truck, past the dead driver, and unhooked the keys from the ignition. “I’m hurt, treatment,” the UN worker told them, reaching inside the trust and going for the opposite side. He was reaching for the keys. When he saw they weren’t there, he groaned. 

“I’m going to assume you’re looking for these,” Owen said, tossing Alec the keys. Owen took Alec’s place as he rounded the back, opening up the padlocked trust. They seemed to be tossing a lot of stuff around - heavy equipment. Before they could investigate themselves, the UN worker turned to them abruptly with a gun in his hand. Owen disarmed him quickly, smacking the gun across the man’s face.

“Isn’t he a UN relief worker?” Cian asked, cautious of the situation. Owen had seemingly just struck a civilian. 

“Relief workers aren’t allowed to carry firearms,” Owen corrected, disassembling the gun, “this doesn’t feel right,” he said, looking down at the disgruntled man. 

“The guns shipment in the back doesn’t either,” Alec said, holding up a SCAR-H sniper.

“Call local,” Owen ordered and Lowery moved to action. Cian took out his gun and aimed it at the UN worker.

They waited for the local police to come, radioed ahead and gotten all the information they needed. Everything else was up to the police, and the US had no more jurisdiction on the matter. The minute they handed everything over, it was no longer their concern. 

_ “I checked with the UN and their IDs and vehicle are all fake,” _ Owen said in Arabic - or as close to the phrase as he could.

_ “We appreciate all your help,”  _ The officer replied, saluting Owen, and he did the same. As they parted ways, the fake UN worker in the backseat almost seemed pleased….and Owen’s gut twisted as the car pulled away.

“We have to report this to headquarters,” Alec reminded Owen, to which he sighed. 

“It’s a lot of paperwork.” Owen scratched his head and Alec shoved his shoulder, shaking his head back to his captain. Owen smiled. 

 

*~*~*

 

Claire’s day felt long, one soldier after the other, construction workers coming in with small injuries and just little things that took barely any of her attention - it was slow, and so unlike what she was used to. She liked the rush of emergency, the ache in her back even when she hated it - she liked the blood of it all. This, this foreign country provided worse material than what the TV gig was doing for her. Claire went to the water fountain outside, pumping the water into the large container, and washing her hands. She pushed her hair out of her face with the back of her hand, letting herself bathe in the sun, sweat beading on her skin in odd spots. 

It felt like a long day - but it wasn’t even midday. Claire sighed, bringing herself to sit next to the water basin, and sighing. Maybe she craved the chaos of it all, the simplicity so mundane to her now that she couldn’t live without the anxiety of a messy accident. Maybe it was wrong to wish for an accident - but she wondered if she’d get any of that here, or if she would merely suffer through this experience from start to finish. 

“Sir,” Soldiers saluted and as Claire’s attention rose up, she saw Owen walking beside Alec, quietly discussing something amongst themselves. 

“Are you okay? Did anyone get hurt?” Claire asked, walking quickly over to them. 

“It was a simple traffic accident. No need to worry,” Owen said, hands on his hips, and Claire was suddenly aware of how broad he was. Had it really never occurred to her before this moment that Owen was actually built to look like a marble statue? He stood tall with his stance strong and all his features carved to perfection. It was unreal. 

“Are you okay? We’ve all worked in the emergency room before, so we’re prepared,” she asked, looking back to his face and trying to remain calm. She was barely holding it together. She should have been better at this. Owen smiled, nodding along.

“That’s good, I need to get going though,” he said, clearing his throat and looking towards his partner. “I’m off to headquarters,” he said to Alec and Claire nodded, trying her hardest not to say goodbye - she didn’t have to be polite.

“Alright,” Alec replied. 

“Sorry. Alec, right? Can you tell me the wifi password?” Claire asked, reaching for her phone. Alec’s brow furrowed.

“Wifi password? Sorry, it’s against regulations for civilians to use army Wi-Fi,” he explained, and Claire grit her teeth.

“Ah, okay,” she sighed, kicking her foot in the dirt.

“There are internet cafes in town if you need them,” Alec explained, and suddenly Owen started to walk over, eyes wide and expression stern and angry. “Captain Grady is going past and can show you,” he said, looking to his captain, saluting him. “Sir,” Alec smiled and Claire could tell this was Alec’s way of shoving the pair together. Owen cleared his throat before gesturing towards the car. Claire nodded and headed over to it. 

The car trip between them was mostly silent. It felt as though the two didn’t want to speak to each other - air so thick with tension that it made both of them cling to their side of the vehicle. Claire called ahead, trying to avoid the awful way the car fumed with this energy. She was messaged by Vivian, giving her contacts to lease a small clinic around Jacksonville. Calling the number, Claire talked at length with the woman on the other end. 

“Yeah, I can send a deposit now,” she said, “I’m out of the country but I can do it online,” explaining further, “I’ll send it within the next hour and text you.” After all the details were confirmed, Claire put her phone in her lap, sitting back in the stewing tension. 

Owen cleared his throat. “Are you moving?” 

“No, I’m opening my own clinic,” she explained. 

“Because of the fling with you and the owner?” 

Claire turned to him sharply. “How do you know about that?” 

“Whenever you’re not around, that’s all the rest of them talk about,” he said and Claire huffed, sinking down into her seat. “Heard from Karen that you kicked him in the crotch. Nice,” he said and Claire couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yeah well, that kick sent me here,” she said, scratching her face. Hiding her face from Owen, she looked out the window, seeing a small painted billboard on the side of the road. It advertised a beach with crystal waters and something on the crescent sands. “What’s that?” she asked, Owen peered to her side of the window and shook his head. 

“It’s too far,” he said back. Claire folded her arms.

“I didn’t ask how far.” They sat in silence, driving past the billboard and continuing into town, the sea nearby and the air so crisp, it made Claire want to jump straight into it. Owen gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly, keeping his concentration on the road, and it seemed inappropriate to interrupt whatever he was thinking about. 

In the town, Owen’s car came to sudden halt and Claire jerked in her seat. He glanced over her until his hand pressed to her forehead and pushed her back to see past her. 

“You just need internet right?” he asked, and Claire shoved his hand from her skin. She cleaned her head as much as possible - the faint feeling of dirt or sweat sticking despite her efforts. She gave up, and turned to glare at him.

“Can you not put your hand on my head?” she spat and Owen turned off the car. He was already out of the car before Claire could ask him what was going on. He rounded the car, and opened the door for her. 

Leading the way, Owen brought her to a one story building, with a patch of grass in the front as though it were a residential area. It wasn’t like the rest of the homes, just a little ways out, kind of out of sight but still accessible by the public. Pushing the door open, they walked in. Across the room were metal shelves lined with car parts, medical instruments, different currencies and passports to be made on location. Owen didn’t seem phased by any of it, but Claire looked through the mess with curiosity. 

“This isn’t the cafe I had in mind, but it’ll be much faster,” Owen said, turning to Claire, still looking around the store. Then, a woman came around one of the many shelves lining the shop. She was blonde, not too tall, but pale - seemed American. 

“Ah, the asshole soldier,” she said and Claire scoffed out a laugh, concealing it with her hand and feigning a coughing fit. Owen’s eyes narrowed on her but he still seemed amused by it. 

“You have a good reputation, I see,” Claire said, clearing her throat. 

“Where’s the owner? I thought Bellamy worked here,” Owen asked, scratching the back of his neck. The blonde rested a bucket full of assorted things on her hip as she leaning her hand on the front counter. 

“Bellamy and I own this place together,” she corrected him. 

“Where is he?” 

“He’s currently held somewhere. If you know him, you’ll know he’s banned from most countries. I’ll kill him when he gets back,” she spat out and Claire raised her eyebrows, surprised by her willingness to confess as much to a soldier, “who is she?” she said, pointing to Claire. 

“Doctor from the medical service team,” Owen said. Then, she suddenly stepped into Claire, breathing in deeply. 

“Ah, that’s where I smelled the ethanol,” she replied and sighed. 

“Who is she?” Claire whispered to Owen. 

“Her real job is a nurse with another guy I know, I think this is her side job in the country,” he said, and the expression on the woman’s face changed, shifting to an uncomfortable and scared expression. 

“How do you know who I am and what I do?” she asked. 

“Bellamy told me once...about his wife, Clarke,” 

“I’m not his wife! We’re just...co-workers,” she said, clearing her throat and tucking hair behind her ear. “What brings you here? I have everything except Bellamy,” she said, expression returning to a cold and stern facade. 

“She needs to use your Wifi,” Owen said, pointing to Claire. Clarke seemed to think for a moment before rushing around the back of the store, settling things down and outwardly throwing things as she searched. Claire grimaced as she watched Clarke and turned to Owen. 

“Are you sure I can use it here?” 

“If you look closely, you can find missiles here,” Owen winked and Claire groaned at him, “wait here when you’re done, I’ll be back in an hour,” he said and turned to Clarke. “Keep her here for a while, and don’t fight,” he warned and Clarke shook her head, to which Owen leaned in extremely close to Claire again, “she’s got a gun,” he whispered, winking and leaving her in the company of the smiling blonde. Claire nervously smiled back. 

 

*~*~*

 

Owen stood in front of Simon, his stance a perfect distance apart, and hands behind his back as he began to explain himself and his team. “At 10am this morning we transferred over one body and a member of a black market ring from the area to the local police, everything was under control,” he said, going back to ease.

“I’ve already been briefed,” Simon replied and Owen’s chest deflated, “you don’t know how high up this goes,” Simon warned, standing up and moving around his desk. It was when Simon came face to face with Owen did he realise what this all meant - that what they had stumbled upon was far out of Owen’s jurisdiction. Even so, Owen knew he couldn’t let it slide, that he could just watch this all play out for some fucked up gain on people exploiting those in the area. Either way, Owen was getting his head chewed off. 

“I know you idiots in alpha team have no fear. But they have no fear and no law,” Simon continued to explain, “they smuggle weapons. Stay away from them,” Owen cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. Then, Simon nudged at Owen’s forehead - making him look directly at his superior. “You and I know you don’t have much time left here. Don’t get involved. When we get transferred back to the states, we’ll be promoted. Keep our hands clean, and everything will be okay,” Simon nodded, expecting Owen to agree. And it was an order. Owen clenched his fists behind his back and nodded sparkly.

“Yes, sir,” he replied. 

“Write a thorough report,” Simon said and Owen lost his will to stand tall, shoulders sloping and hands feeling tight. Fuck reports. Stupid, long, boring reports. He wondered if he could pass it off to Alec. “And take this,” Simon said suddenly, handing over a sheet of paper. Owen started to read it when Simon spoke. “One soldier is being transferred from Descendant company.”

“Sergeant Warren?” Owen asked. 

“He’s being transferred to special forces in training. It’s a direct order from the General,” Simon replied and Owen sucked in a breath. 

 

*~*~*

 

It was dusty in the old building, hard to breathe in and the police vehicle rolled in. Standing there as the police officers brought out a young man in a UN shirt and three boxes of heavy material, he watched it all. They set them down in front of him. Slicked back hair, dark clothes, pale skin. Removing the scarf around his face, a deep and nasty scar ran up from his jaw to the middle of his right cheek. 

The chief of police, who not hours before lied through his teeth to American soldiers, stood in front of the man. He cleared his throat as the man remained unmoved. “You cannot pretend to be the UN to cross the border anymore. They know now and have even dispatched the Americans. They’re patrolling the border now!” he said angrily, his English stunted by his own accent, but he was dealing with Americans. 

And if there was one thing he knew about Americans - they don’t do anything that isn’t on their terms. The man in black moved to the boxes, removing the lid from one and grabbing a handgun. Then, he cocked it and pointed it at the chief of police. 

“We switched over,” The man in black said, American accent so thick compared to the Syrian police officer. 

“Take it easy!” The chief said, removing the handcuffs from the subordinate. “If things go bad there’s only so much I can do,” he replied nervously, and the man shrugged. 

“Well, you know I have my people in high positions,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bundle of bills. “Dead presidents?” he asked and the chief lit up. If only he had known better. The man in black threw the cash at him, and the chief fumbled it. As he reached for it on the ground, the man in black fired his weapon and the chief was dead. He was a skilled shot and always had been. The other officers stood in shock as the chief laid dead on the floor. “Congratulations, you just got promoted. Don’t forget your present,” The man said, the bundle of money sitting beside a pool of blood, almost touched by death - and the man just watched. 

He never cared for the police chief anyway. 

 

*~*~*

 

Alec sat in the chapel office, staring at the piece of paper and wondering why Owen didn’t deliver it himself. He was always a slacker, handing things off to others. Alec deserved to get this from his captain. But at least Barry didn’t ask questions and knew when to leave when he wasn’t wanted. “You’re excused,” Alec replied softly. Barry saluted before he stopped himself. 

“Sorry, sergeant,” he said back and Alec nodded. 

“Me too.” 

In the back of his mind, he knew where he went wrong - he knew exactly what he had done to deserve this. But he wished - oh god, he wished - that she never found out. 

 

*

 

_ “Everyone stop!” a superior yelled in the mess hall.  _

_ “Attention,” General Young said and Alec stiffened.  _

_ “Sir,” said one. Alec could hear the voices behind him. He knew why the General was there, and everything in his gut twisted, everything feeling like someone was reaching inside him and rearranging all his organs for the fun of it.  _

_ “Battalions three and five are having lunch, sir,” said a captain in the area.  _

_ “At ease,” General Young said, walking the length of the mess hall. “Keep up the good work. I’m here to eat with you all today, don’t mind me!”  _

_ “Yes, sir,” replied the battalions. Then, General Young sat down opposite Alec. He didn’t move, he stayed at attention. As the mess began to empty and it was left with only Alec and the General, there was silence between them. The General had finished his meal. Alec’s went untouched.  _

_ “Sergeant Alec Warren,” General Young said. _

_ “Sergeant Alec Warren, sir!” Alec replied promptly.  _

_ “Are you seeing my daughter?” he asked. Alec’s mouth went dry.  _

_ “Yes, sir.” _

_ “I’m worried about Zara’s future. I hope you consider her future too,” he paused and Alec sucked in a breath, “don’t hurt her when it all falls apart.” _

_ Alec’s hands bound in the material in his pants, fisted so tightly, he could feel his nails digging in through the material. “Is that an order?” _

_ “I hope not, but if it has to be, it will. It’s up to you how you and I can keep our relationship honourable,” he said, and left Alex alone.  _

_ He didn’t feel like eating, and instead, he rested his head in his hands.  _

_ How the fuck was he going to do this?  _

_ She was going to kill him.  _

 

*

 

Alec was in the barracks, his duffle freshly laid out and his things began to pile in slowly. It was mainly his uniforms, a few different books and all the toiletries he had needed over the course of his stay. It felt strange to leave without the rest of his unit, but he couldn’t disobey orders. 

Then, the only thing that was left was the letter that Zara had left in his parcel. He sighed as he looked at the writing on the inside. 

_ Your present is on its way! I miss you so much!  _

Oh, she was definitely going to kill Alec. 

He sat on his cot, and stared at her hand writing. 

It was the closest he could get to her. 

And he missed her so much. 

 

*~*~*

 

There was now a silence in the car ride that was not like the one this morning. It was different - not an awkwardness that either of them wanted to avoid, but rather, an anger that brewed from something that she had not impacted on. “Did something happen?” she asked cautiously. 

Owen sighed, letting one hand go of the wheel and let it rest on the window of his driver side door. “One of my men is being transferred back home,” he explained. Claire knew who would trouble him like this. And she couldn’t just let him stew in something like this. She may not be a jokester like he was - but she could try to be funny. For his sake at least.

“Square jaw?” she asked, and Owen scoffed, nodding. 

“Stick up his ass,” 

“Alec,” she corrected them both and Owen nodded slowly, letting out a long breath. “Are you mad because he gets home before you or sad to see him go?” she asked and Owen shook his head. 

“I’m frustrated because it’s an unfair order.” 

“Soldiers have to follow the orders from their superior,” Claire reminded but the way Owen rolled his shoulders made it seem like it made him even more uncomfortable. 

“This isn’t an order from a superior. It’s from a father,” he said and Claire remembered. Zara was an army doctor for a reason. She tilted her head and looked to Owen, positioning herself between the 

“I was wondering how Zara and Alec met. Was it through the army?” 

Owen suddenly chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that,” he smirked, looking back to Claire and gripped back into the steering wheel. “He was doing this four hundred kilometer walk. Lieutenant Young was put on the medical team,” he began to explain, the depth of it was like he had been told so many times by Alec - it felt like Claire was being told directly by Alec himself. 

 

*~*~*

 

Alec watched the private collapse in the river. Although it was only knee deep, everyone seemed to be struggling to stay up right with their kits on their backs. He didn’t want to wade through the water again - his ankles felt raw and limbs felt far too tired. He glared down at the private before sighing, taking a step back into the cold water. He was too nice for his own good. He pulled the private to his feet and took the kit off his back. Hoisting it onto his own, he stared down the private. 

“I’ll carry your kit. If you give up, I’ll kill you,” he warned and the private yelled back. 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Keep walking!” Alec ordered. The private raced ahead and Alec sighed, fixing up the packs on his back and began to job up to the riverbank. There, one of the medical team members walked forward and got in his path. She wasn’t particular tall - she had to look up to see him, but she looked like every other military woman; hair pulled back in a bun, hidden under her cap and her shoulders square like a man’s. 

“This is your third time coming back, right?” she asked. 

“What do you want?” he snapped. He wanted to get this trial over and done with, and she was interrupting his plan. 

“Take off your boots,” she ordered and Alec’s brow furrowed. She crossed her arms and stood her ground. “You love your fellow soldiers and you want to win, but if you keep this up, you might have to accept a medical discharge, Sergeant Alec Warren,” she remarked, jabbing a finger into his chest where his name tag was sown into his uniform. 

“Even if I have to accept a medical discharge, I need to win this thing,” he snapped. She scoffed and smiled through his ridiculous idea. 

“You’re trying to win so you can get leave to go to your ex’s wedding and make a scene?” she asked, and as he looked at her with shock, she shrugged. “Everyone talks.” 

Alec straightened his shoulders and pulled away from the medical team member. “Exactly.” And he continued on, still feeling her eyes watching him as he ran off towards the other troops. 

  
  


*~*~*

 

“Really?” Claire exclaimed and Owen smiled as the car stopped. 

“Really,” he replied. “Let’s get out.” Undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car, Claire realised where they were. Well, not really. She was just so engrossed by the story, that she didn’t realise how far they’d gone from the camp. They were at the docks, where little speed boats and rowboats sat with paddles dangling in the water. 

“What are we doing here?” Claire asked as she closed her car door. 

“We’re going to the beach we saw earlier,” he explained, pointing to a sign by the entrance of the dock. The same picture from the sign earlier. Claire looked back at Owen. “I want to take you before you start getting too busy,” he said walking ahead of her. 

“You said it was too far,” she reminded and he shrugged. 

“That’s another reason. I want to spend time with you a little longer,” he said and Claire sucked in a tight breath. “Can you blame a guy?” he asked. 

“I want to see a beach and hear the rest of the story, so no, I can’t,” she said back and Owen looked like he suffered a blow to the gut, but still had a smile pressed to his lips. Sucking on her teeth, Claire kicked at the dirt and cleared her throat. “So how did the rest of the story go?” 

“Alec went to his ex’s wedding. With Zara,” he explained, and started down to the docks again. 

“Why did Zara go?” Claire said racing over to Owen, and he looked proudly with his chin raised and smug grin on his face, walking to a particular part of the dock. 

 

*~*~*

 

Alec had put on his suit, tie in hand and jumped into his car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turned his rearview mirror towards him. He really wished he knew how to tie a fucking tie, because he felt ridiculous by the fourth time he attempted. Huffing, Alec swiftly tugged on the tie, flinging the material to the other side of the car and undoing the top button of his shirt. 

As he did that, the back door opened in his car, and the doctor from earlier stepped inside, sitting promptly behind the passenger seat. “What do you want?” Alec asked, pivoting around in his seat to see the doctor. 

“Congratulations. You’ll be able to ruin your ex’s wedding. And what do you know, I have the day off,” she remarked, feigning a smile, but there was a secret in her eyes - something she needed from him, and something she needed him for. 

“I asked what you wanted, not what you’re doing,” he repeated. She sighed, moving forward in her seat and challenging him by getting closer. 

“If you go and make a scene, she’ll be glad that she left you,” she said, and Alec’s brow furrowed, “but if you go with someone else, she’ll regret leaving you. That’s my plan,” she said, sitting back into her seat and waiting. 

“I..” Alec thought for a moment and then stopped, “like it,” he couldn’t help but smile. 

“On one condition,” she said, the mood shifting as she pointed into the front seat. “Is that mirror turned away from me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good,” she said as she started to unzip her uniform jacket. Alec felt his face grow hot and he turned around completely in his seat.  _ Eyes forward, keep the mirror where it is.  _ “You know who I am, right?” she said. 

“Zara Young. Your father is General Craig Young,” he replied, a crack in his voice that he had to cover. 

“You see, my father wants to set me up with your company commander. Owen Grady,” she said after a moment, a little flustered and moving as she spoke. 

“He’s here, came two days ago,” Alec corrected and she gave a frustrated groan before handing Alec some white heels. Climbing over the gap in the chairs, Alec noticed her dress - a simple, white dress that hugged at her waist and revealed just enough to make her appear delicate, yet beautifully sexy at the same time. Alec’s mouth went a little dry. 

“Anyway, tell him you’re going out with me,” she said, sitting in the front seat and putting down the visor. 

Alec wasn’t sure how to tell her that Owen wasn’t that bad - but at that moment, he didn’t want to bring up that guy at all. “You don’t like him?” 

“He’s too much like what my father wants, not what I want,” she explained, letting her hair fall out around her shoulders, fixing it to the way she wanted. And for a moment, Alec thought he felt his heart stop. “Deal?” she asked.

“Deal.” 

He didn’t need to hesitate. 

 

*~*~*

 

“So, what? Are you in some kind of love triangle?” Claire asked as Owen lead her to the boat. He got the keys off the owner - seemingly already talked to him at some point due to the friendliness between them - and he jumped on board the small speed boat. He turned back to her, frowning, but he nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“Is it still going on?” He returned a nod again. 

“Does that bother you?” he said, tilting his head. Claire cleared her throat as Owen offered his hand. She took it, and he pulled her straight up onto the boat.

“I was just curious,” she said, trying to find her footing, but failing on the uneven surface of the boat and the waves around it. As she stumbled, Owen pulled her into him, steadying her out and their bodies pressed up against one another. Then, Owen leaned down to her, eyes focused on her.

“Looks like it bothers you a lot,” he challenged and Claire swallowed hard. 

“Does not,” she said, clearing her throat and finding the seat at the back. Owen smiled to himself as he stuck the key in the ignition and drove the boat to where he was headed. Claire couldn’t hear a thing over the roar of the engine, or the crashing of the waves against the boat’s hull, so their conversations were limited to just pointing and staring off at the blue vista that befell across the area. 

The wind roared in her ears, hair flung across her eyes as she gazed out across the deep blue water. It was so clear beneath them, growing lighter and lighter as they approached the sandy crescent of the island - shallow depths glimmering in the sun. Claire huffed, pushing the hair out of her face yet again to get a glimpse of the mysterious object that sat on the shore. With a clearer eye, she made it out finally, an abandoned shipwreck. It was gutted through the middle, all rusted metal and ragged edges - but it was beautiful despite its wear. 

The boat stopped on the shore and Owen tied it to one of the waiting posts to keep it from floating away. He helped her down from the boat’s edge and she walked across the sand. Her shoes sunk into the uneven ground and she made her way closer and closer. The shores here were different than back home - a combination of the fine sands she was used to, and pearl like rocks that were littered amongst the rest.

“This is oddly beautiful,” Claire breathed, combing back her hair into a manageable place. It wasn’t long before Owen stood by her side, watching her as she marvelled at the wondrous carcass.

“The wreckage?” he asked, and she nodded as she moved forward. They moved in step with each other, their footsteps so in time, that they echoed as one sound. 

“It’s…” she started before she became embarrassed. “I’m not going to say that,” she laughed, walking into the threshold of the aching ship and Owen following behind closely. 

“Say what?” he said before moving in front of her, their path cut short in the middle of the wreckage. “Come on, Dearing, you aren’t holding out on me now, are ya?” he said, raising his brow in jest. Claire laughed, walking around the edge. Inside the ship sat white stones, large and small, all surrounding the hull on any flat surface that could hold them. It was the specks of white amongst the rusted brown that made her heart feel warm. 

“It’s like a body….the bones left after everything inside has just….fallen away. Bones tell you so much about a person. If they’ve been broken, if they were fed, if they hurt. Everything about this ship tells a story of how it got here,” she explained, walking along the row of stones, wondering how they managed to find their way inside this beautiful, hollow body. 

“You have a nice way of looking at the world,” he said, following after her. Claire laughed. 

“I’m a doctor. Everything I know is biology. I’m not that interesting.” 

“I beg to differ,” he said, a tenderness in his voice that had Claire weak at her knees. He had a charm - there was no denying it, but Claire ended things for a reason. 

“Why did you become a soldier?” she asked, and Owen suddenly stiffened, taken back by the question. 

“My dad was a soldier, and I always wanted to be like him. The minute I could, I joined up,” he sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. He wandered his own path, and Claire found herself following after him this time. 

“So, family trade?” 

“I guess so,” he said, looking down at his feet and bending to get something. He picked up a rounded rock on the sand and handed it over to Claire. “Here.”

“Thank you?” she said, “I love rocks,” she tried to smile but it was an odd gesture to her. 

Owen laughed, holding her palm open and the rock sitting perfectly in the centre. “It’s a tradition, amongst locals,” he started, “if you take a rock from the beach, you’ll return with the one you came with.” 

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” Claire said, trying to hand it back, but Owen’s hand folded her own, making her grip onto it and hold it tightly. 

“Just….keep it,” he replied, “let’s see if it’s true.” With a smile, she was sold. 

“Why is this ship here anyway?” she asked, pulling away and walking the length of the ship.

“Washed up wreckage, I suppose,” he shrugged, walking beside her again. “Haunted by the beauty around it,” he said, and Claire scoffed, an unexpected view from a man that didn’t seem all that poetic. 

“Have you been haunted?” 

“I have,” he said, “I’m sure you know.” Claire avoided his eye and clenched her jaw. He just had to be the charming type, didn’t he? “Are you still sexy in the operating room?” he asked suddenly and Claire’s stomach dropped. 

“I’m not here to make a difference, I was pushed here against my will and…” Claire took a deep breath, her body bound in discomfort and her hand curling around the rock in her palm. “I don’t operate anymore. It’s not taking me anywhere,” and as Owen’s brow furrowed, Claire felt more ashamed of herself than usual. She wanted to get out of his eyeline - to stick to the corners and not be the centre of his attention. “I have to get back to the camp now,” she said, walking back to the boat without him.

“Right,” he said from afar, walking behind her. They didn’t speak the entire way back. The silence was needed, a finite time of joy was spent before their rift reformed and lines became clearly divided once more. Claire felt closer to Owen here...but at the same time, she couldn’t allow herself the joy of his company. It was all limited. They wouldn’t spend days like this - together and possibly happy. Countries and duties would always separate them. 

Back at the camp, they saw a frantic Franklin, trying to pick up a local - and unconscious - Syrian boy but was failing to do so. Claire and Owen both rushed out of the car and brought him to the medicube, Owen laying him down on a bed. Claire listened through her stethoscope and when she heard no abnormalities, put them back around her neck.  

“He just threw up and fainted?” she asked Franklin. He nervously rubbed at his arm as he remembered the events. 

“Yeah, it might be malnutrition, so I put him on an IV,” Franklin explained, but Claire already knew that, “he sounded okay though,” Franklin tried to reason and Claire touched his hand to comfort him. 

“It’s not pneumonia, but if it’s anemia cause by malnutrition, his condition is quite critical,” she explained, moving forward over the boy. She touched at his stomach, finding a spot where the boy physically winced, even in his weakened state. “Pain between the liver and spleen?” she muttered.

“What about lead poisoning?” Owen interrupted and Claire felt something in her gut twist. She looked at Owen, and he had a disapproving look smeared across his face. 

“Lead poisoning doesn’t show acute symptoms like this kids has,” Franklin tried to reason. But Claire thought of the day before. The kids...licking and sucking at the metal she took off of them. 

“Was he sucking something?” she asked Franklin and he perked suddenly.

“Yeah, he was asking for food, I think and sucking on his fingers,” he explained and Claire rubbed at the bridge of her nose. 

“We should detox him first,” Claire explained, “give him high doses of vitamin C and EDTA.”

“Is it lead poisoning?” Franklin asked.

“He’s anemic with malnutrition, and he’s consumed lead, his blood cells may have mistaken the lead for food and absorbed it,” she sighs and Franklin nods frantically.

“I’ll get the medicine,” he said, rushing off to the supplies. 

“Let me know when he wakes up, I can speak a little of Arabic,” Owen said, hands on his hips as he began to walk away. Claire turned and sucked in a breath. 

“Thank you for your help.” She knew he was angry with her - annoyed possibly - that she wasn’t seeing something that was so obvious to him. She didn’t like how he looked down on her in that moment. 

Owen stopped in his tracks. He seemed to be contemplating something, the knot in his shoulders evident from even a short distance away. “You should know the common things that afflict kids in this area,” he said sternly and Claire straightened, “you’re a good doctor, but you should have looked this up. You can’t rely on a soldier,” he said and before Claire could even retort his statement, he was gone. Claire’s hand bound tightly and she so desperately wanted to punch something. Instead, she sighed, sitting down next to the child and going over his vitals. 

Putting her hand to her head, she tried to forget the frustration that was built in her now. 

 

*~*~*

 

Back at the chapel, Owen started a slow walk up the stairs. _ I’m a dick, I’m a dick, I’m a massive dick! _ God, why did he have to say it like that? Why was he being like this? Everything was going well, they were enjoying each other, then one conversation happened and it derailed all the groundwork he had put in. He had to stop on a stair to just mentally kick himself over this. He really was a fuck up. Couldn’t charm the pants off a fucking mannequin. 

Then, as Owen started up the stairs again, alarms started to blare around their camp. Owen looked around, unsure of anything, and before he knew it, Alec was rushing out to find him. They met on the catwalk over the chapel floor and Alec seemed agitated. 

“FPCON is now in affect in the medicube,” he said, and Owen’s eyes widened. The alert went out to all soldiers. Putting on bulletproof vests, arming themselves with guns and automatics, the soldiers lined up, and Alpha team remained in the chapel as they set up all the information they needed. 

With faxes being sent through, everyone printing out information that may be relevant, and Owen on the phone with headquarters - it was working chaos. Alec rushed around him, getting Rick to head down and gather the medical team, more reports and documents being sent Owen’s way. 

“Is the medicube hospital our operation zone?” he asked over the phone. 

“A VIP patient is on his way to the medicube,” Simon replied, his team tracking the patient from his end. It was a while before Owen heard any more news from Simon - telling him ETA and who the patient was. 

“Yousef Rahal. The chairman of the Arab League was coming back from his unofficial visit to Syria to sign a middle east peace treaty and suddenly collapsed. They say his vital signs are chaotic and can’t get him to stay conscious,” Simon said over the phone and Owen got the medical documents sent through. Going through this at a glance….it made no sense. He wasn’t a trained doctor, but he had some medical knowledge for field first aid, and what he was reading didn’t make sense. Hopefully it did to the professionals. “He’s an influential person with political and royal ties, and has had a number of threats against him in the past for his views,” Simon reiterated and that was Owen’s part done. Simon was patched into the comms system, and Owen’s direct line to headquarters. 

This needed to be clean. 

He couldn’t fuck this up. 

Paper in hand, Owen went down to the medicube, the soldiers and doctors all assembled in the one place. In the front of the pack - leader of the entire medical team - was Claire, arms crossed and avoiding his gaze at every moment. He couldn’t blame her, this was all beginning to be a fucking mess. Owen put his hand on his hip, handing over the paper to Claire. 

“These are the medical records of the patient,” he said. She snatched it from his hand and turned it around. 

“Thanks.” 

The medical team all came around Claire, crowding her and reading all the information over her shoulder. Karen’s head met Claire’s shoulder, a frown deep in her expression. “Everything is blacked out,” she groaned. 

“What information can we get from this?” Franklin asked. 

“We could misdiagnose him anywhere,” Zia said, poking her head around, examining the page herself. 

“Are they just lies? See here? He can’t have both,” Xander pointed out. 

“I’ve had to do this,” Claire said and the group shifted. Owen wasn’t expecting her to say something like that - but she seemed ashamed of having to know it at the same time as understanding it. “Powerful enough people can fake anything. He wants to hide something about his health, and not just anyone can know his true conditions,” she explained, “with that information it could be incredibly harmful.”

Owen nodded as the cars spend up past the gate and before the medicube. Claire selected her team and rushed in with the patient in toe. Owen and Alpha team followed the Chairman’s security team. 

With the chairman wired up to all the monitors and everything starting to relax - well, as much as an emergency situation could relax - Owen got contacted by Simon. “How are things?” he asked.

“Nothing abnormal,” Owen replied, looking to the security team that seemed on edge, “he’s getting first aid treatment.” The security team, black suits and strong willed men, were standing at ten feet from the chairman’s bed, with Owen and his team standing to the left of it, standing near the medical team. Owen was the closest, Claire an arm reach away. 

“Report back to me if anything happens,” Simon ordered.

“Yes sir.” 

Turning to the team, Owen watched them diagnose him. They read over his vital signs, each trying to come up with possible solutions to the distress they were seeing. 

“Blood pressure 175 over 110, pulse rate 100,” Zia said.

“His BP is high and his pulse is fast and erratic,” Franklin analysed. Claire seemed tense, her hands bound in the bed’s barrier. She looked back and forth, hair bouncing across her shoulders as she finally took a moment to breathe. In the second, she combed back her hair, pulling it into a ponytail. It was odd to watch - prepping for battle with something far bigger than herself. 

“He’s drowsy, I think he may be hypoglycemic,” Xander said, hand on his chin, scratching it across his beard. 

“He’s diabetic by the chart,” “we could give him insulin,”  

“Let’s treat what we know right now,” Claire said, moving 

_ “Wait,”  _ Said the leading security member. Owen motioned to the team to stop and Claire turned to him. _ “This is a prescription from the president's doctor.”  _ Although Owen could speak little Arabic, he understood it well enough. He got handed a bottle of something and he handed it to Claire, explaining the situation quickly. She stared at the label and she wrinkled up her nose. 

“Nitroglycerine?” she muttered.

“Why a blood thinner?” Franklin mumbled back. “He’s diabetic. A side effect of the insulin?” he asked and Claire huffed, shifting the weight on one hip.

“We can’t trust the chart,” she reminded and Owen watched the group intently, hands on his hips, but still maintaining a strong view of the security team that seemed ever more eager to start something, “give them to him, it’s the only shot we have right now.” 

Handing off the medicine to Karen, she pushed it through his IV, the liquid pouring in. And the machines going haywire. The soldiers and security in the room straightened and hands went down to hips. The one place they could protect what they needed to. Owen remained calm, he couldn’t act on his instinct - he had two teams that would react wildly if he seemed stressed or agitated. Owen couldn’t risk that. 

“His blood pressure is dropping too quickly,” Karen explained, the drastic change in his blood pressure even clear to the soldiers in the room. 

“What the hell?” Zia cursed and Claire’s hand went to her forehead. Claire started to feel at his stomach, the obvious presence of bloating, or something similar through his abdomen. 

“What’s going on?” Simon yelled in Owen’s ear. 

“Claire, what’s the situation?” Owen asked stepping close to Claire. She shook her head, running through possibilities and trying to work it all out. 

“He’s got a whole bunch of secrets. With his abdominal distension, blood pressure deterioration, my educated guess would be…” she started, her hand pressing to his stomach in multiple areas, “Hemoperitoneum,” she turned to him. Owen sucked in a breath.

“Layman's terms, please,” he asked, and Claire chuckled softly. It was odd to be in a situation where someone would have to say it. But, they both enjoyed the humour in the morbid, it seemed. 

“There’s blood accumulating in the space between the abdominal wall and the organs inside,” she explained. 

“What does that mean?”

“I need to open him up,” she said and Owen nodded, “We’ll perform a laparotomy. Prepare the operating room,” Claire ordered and medical team went into action.

“Yes, doctor,” the group replied. 

_ “Hands off!”  _ the leading security member said, gun raised and Claire’s team stopped. _ “Tell her to stop what she’s doing,”  _ he said and Owen felt his hand shift down to his hip.

“What is he saying?” Claire whispered to Owen. 

_ “You cannot operate on our president,”  _ The man replied again, _ “The president’s doctor will be here in an hour.”  _

“The doctor will be here in an hour, we won’t allow you to operate,” Owen explained. Claire stepped forward, arguing her point.

“We can’t wait that long,” Claire said, looking up at Owen, “He will die in twenty minutes if we don’t operate,” her voice cracked, pleading with him and Owen nodded to her softly. Owen translated the phrase back, and the man stepped forward.

_ “I cannot allow just anyone to put a knife to the president,”  _ he said, gun aimed directly at Claire.

_ “You are not listening, he will not last twenty minutes,”  _ Owen retorted, and suddenly felt a hand bind into the back of his shirt. Claire sensed his anger, and though she was still concentrating on her patient, she seemed worried for him. Maybe it was the guns pointed at him. 

_ “Only Arab doctors can operate on the president!”  _ He argued and Owen assumed Claire understood, because she tugged on the back of Owen’s shirt softly and she seemed to relax slightly. 

“Everyone stand down,” she ordered, “As soon as I take my hands off….he’ll die,” she said and the room went tense. Owen wanted to grip onto his gun, make sure this was an even fight - he couldn’t do that right now. Alarms started to become more erratic, a warning of the impending chaos that might ensue.

“His BP is dropping again,” Karen reiterated, and the room stood still, not moving and listening to a man dying. 

Owen’s comms started to pick up, crackling in his ear as Simon patched himself through. He knew what Simon was like - efficient work, no headaches. Everything in his books needed to be perfect. Owen’s jaw went tight as Simon spoke. 

“Listen to me, saving his life is not our concern. Our concern is who is responsible, do whatever the Arabs want,” he said and Owen agreed with him. “Even if the patient dies, it’s entirely the doctor’s responsibility for not operating on her patient.” That’s when Owen’s stomach sank. He shifted his gaze to his shoulder, seeing Claire’s red hair out of the corner of his eye. She’d be the one to blame. Owen swallowed back his anger as Simon said, “We shouldn’t get involved, that’s an order.” 

Alec looked to Owen and he stared back. Could he trust his friend to know what he was thinking. Owen nodded and Alec....Alec shifted his weight on the balls of his feet. 

_ I’m about to do something stupid. You in?  _ Owen said in a glance. 

_ Kill me. Yeah, I am.  _ Alec said with a roll of his eyes.

They had sealed their fate. 

“Do you think you can save him?” Owen asked, and Claire stuttered. 

“What?” she said, muttering to herself before she formulated the words. “Well first I’d need to open his stomach, but somewhere along the -” 

“I don’t need you to explain. Tell me if you can save him or not. As a doctor,” he asked, and Owen’s comms blared with Simon’s yelling voice.

“What do you think you’re doing? That’s an order, Captain!” 

“Answer me, Claire,” Owen pressured. Claire jumped slightly, the tension in the room thick like a smog falling on a city. They were surrounded by it, unable to escape it without Claire’s answer. Claire chewed on her lip for a moment, quivering as she looked at the armed men behind him. “Claire,” Owen whispered and she looked back at him. 

Her shoulder squared, her lip stopped shaking. As her chest rose, Owen could see the determination in her eyes. 

_ You got this.  _

“I can save him,” she said. Owen sucked in a breath, turning back around. Switching his radio off, taking the earpiece from his ear and letting it rest around his shoulders, Owen took a breath. Hand ready on his hip. 

_ This is it, dude.  _

_ Don’t fuck this up.  _

_ She’s on the line.  _

“Then save him,” Owen ordered, and Alpha team were in time with him. In a split second, their guns were out, cocked and primed towards the security team. Guns were aimed and ready at everyone in the room. Owen glanced to the side and the medical team were scared out of their wits. And behind him - Owen couldn’t risk it. Shifting his weight, Owen shielded Claire with his body, covering her completely. They were barely a few inches apart, but Owen needed to do this. 

He was risking everything here. 

Even his life. 

For her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters you read that you don't recognise are original characters from pre-existing stories of mine. If you want any clarification on any characters, their design or stories they're attached to, please let me know.  
> Delays for each chapter, as they take a while to write - sorry in advance!


	4. Mistakes and Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? I've had chapter 4 in a drafts folder for months but didn't realise? Well then....surprise? I don't know how well edited this is, so you're gonna get it regardless - hope this was a welcome surprise! xx

Claire felt her heart in her throat, hand gripped with her sister’s, and her chest feeling like a pinball machine. All the while, she was in no direct line of fire, and yet she still felt scared. For him. For the man that shielded her the moment he could. Owen had positioned himself to be only a few inches from her, broad shoulders hiding her away from the security team across from them. “I’ll take the patient’s bed to the operating room,” she said. 

Then, the lead security officer shouted in Arabic and Owen stepped forward, still keeping Claire hidden from the line of guns drawn on them.

“From this moment on, the safety of the medical team and the patient will be our top priority. All team members, line up with guns facing forward,” Owen said, and the Alpha team suddenly filed in a line across the length of the medical team. Each member was now covering a doctor or nurse, and their mission clear - protect at all costs. “From now on, you are allowed to fire at anyone who threatens their safety,” Owen said, and the shoulders of each soldier tensed, looking down their sights and staring down their target. 

“Look Captain,” said the security leader, speaking in English for the first time. Claire straightened, never realising he spoke English in the first place. It must have been the same for Owen, because he suddenly gripped his pistol a little harder. “You better know exactly what you’re doing,” the man warned and Owen huffed. 

“You do your job. The doctor will save her patient,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “And I will protect what I have to,” he said, and Claire’s heart stopped. It sounded as though he was talking about the team, but the way Claire’s chest ached….felt personal.

“We will move the patient now,” Claire said, and Owen gestured with a tilt of his head for them to start their waltz with the Arab security team.

It was the most beautiful and terrifying dance, taken step by step as the medical team pushed the bed into the OR. Alpha team acted as their shield; toe in toe, pacing themselves directly with everyone, their duty of protection having them risk their lives to save the few behind them. Claire watched over the vitals, but maintained a steady look at Owen, his eyes on his target, making sure, all the while, that he was protecting her. He was her personal barricade, stopping whatever was coming her way, and he’d do it no matter how long, or how many times he’d get hurt. From what Claire knew of him, she knew he’d do anything and everything to do what he said; protect what he had to. 

And from the start of this heart attack making event, she was his to protect. 

Claire and the others passed the threshold of the operating room, but she looked back, seeing Owen’s eyes pinned on her - watching as she walked away. He seemed more worried for her than for his own safety. 

Something in that look made her feel safe. 

And terrified. 

He was a risk taker - but not with others. 

How could she fall for that man again, even when he was reckless with himself? 

They changed into their scrubs quickly, prepping the patient for surgery and compelling themselves not to completely shut down due to the impedding gun fight happening just a few feet away. 

Claire had Zia at her side, already handing her a scalpel when Xander shuffled on his feet. It made Claire nervous when he did that - when he was a good surgeon, but the surgery itself was risky. He was making her nervous. 

“What?” she snapped and Xander looked at her, eyes the only visible thing about her. 

“Claire, you know what all of this means, right?” he asked, eyes pleading with her to reconsider. Everything in her knew what he was saying, what this all meant; but she couldn’t risk this. 

“Of course I know what it means,” she replied back swiftly.

“Everyone is getting royally fucked because of this,” he whispered and Claire huffed, looking down at the patient’s stomach, noticing an old line on his side. A scar.

“What’s this?” she asked, and Xander leaned over, shaking his head. 

“It’s an incision, but that wasn’t on his chart,” Franklin commented, noticing the scar on his side. 

“We can’t trust charts, Franklin,” she reminded and he nodded back.

“If we operate, we could be initiating a war,” Xander warned her again. 

“If we don’t, a man dies,” Claire shouted, the room going still with her frustration, “are you willing to risk that, Xander?” she asked, regaining her breath. It took him little time to reply. 

“What do you think we should do first?” 

Claire instructed them to move, making the first incision and they worked from there. They kept the blood running through, using suction when they were finding the bleed that was causing most of the issues they were encountering. When they were making their way through his abdomen, Xander clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he allowed himself to find the problem. Claire could see it too. 

“It’s what I thought, he had gallbladder surgery,” he commented and Claire confirmed it, finding the scar tissue around the clear surgical marks. It was making it hard know what was going it, but it was a clear indication that this area was causing the problem and making everything become out of control. 

“This scar tissue here, something went wrong and this is the problem,” she explained to the others, “let’s get rid of this adhesion and work from there.” 

Zia was ahead of Claire, already using the suction to clear the area for her. It was the hardest part of surgery, the fine details that needed a steady hand. With the commotion going on beyond the threshold of the their operation room, it would call for some unsteadiness, but Claire let herself relax - breathe in and out as evenly as possible, long and softly inhaling and exhaling. Her hands were still and precise, getting rid of as much scar tissue as possible to prevent the issue from arising. They continued and Karen notified Claire that his blood pressure was dropping again. Claire felt the sweat on her forehead, the slow crawl of it making its way down her temple and into her hairline. Karen wiped it away, keeping Claire and Xander updated on the levels that she was seeing whenever they changed or she was asked. 

When the blood pressure dropped again, Xander huffed, hands going still as Claire continued to work. She couldn’t stop, she knew she had to keep going. 

“Claire, this isn’t working,” Xander reasoned, but she shook her head, concentrating on the issues. 

“If you can’t work with me, you’re free to leave, I’m not forcing you to stay,” she said, not letting her attention waver. “Clear away the scar tissue and we’ll be able to stop the bleeding,” she repeated, and Xander’s hands tightened on his instruments again.

“Yes, doctor,” he agreed, continuing along with her. It took them less time than she would have guessed, clearing the scar tissue and patching up the problem areas they were facing. His levels were all back in a normal range.

“You did well, Claire,” Xander said, and Claire looked beyond the clear plastic partition of the operating room. Owen was looking back at her, watching her as she watched him. Fixing her focus back onto her patient, she took in a much needed breath and continued.

“Let’s patch him up. Then, we wait,” Claire ordered and the team went to work, cleaning up the area and making sure that the patient was getting the correct treatment. They made the stitches clean, one of their best operations, with little complications. When it was all done, the doctors wheeled him into the recovery room in the medicube. Franklin and Karen went out and told the soldiers that everything was under control, they just needed the patient to wake up. From there, they were able to leave. 

Claire, Zia, and Xander all waited for the Arab league doctor to check on his patient. They had gotten out of their surgical wear, leaving them in their scrubs, and Claire knew she looked like a mess. The doctor went through his routine, checking vitals, inspecting the incision and checking for any abnormalities. Claire understood the need - no doctor truly trusted another with their patient. 

Stepping away from the patient, the doctor put his hands together. “The operation seems to have gone well,” he said in his stunted english accent. 

“It’ll leave a scar. It could have been better if I had his real chart,” she sneered, and the doctor pushed out his chest. 

“The patient still needs to wake up to call the surgery a success,” he retorted, “I’d still be worried if I were you,” he warned and Claire stepped into him, chin raised and snarl on her lips.

“If I just sat around and did nothing, we would have a dead body.” 

“He could still die,” he replied, leaving the room and returning to the security outside the recovery. 

“I know that,” Claire snarled before she groaned, collapsing down to the ground and leaning back against the wall, watching the patient as he remained unconscious. 

“Are you okay?” Xander asked, sitting down next to Claire, hand on her shoulder. “I’ll an eye on him, you can go get some rest.” 

“I’m okay, I’m just hungry,” she moaned, kicking her legs out, “you guys go eat with Franklin and Karen and switch places with me,” she suggested and Zia met them on the floor, cradling her knees and speaking over the edge of them. 

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” she asked and the two stared at her. “Sorry for being the downer, but what happens?” she shrugged. 

“There’ll be a case report and world history will change for the worse,” Xander explained and Claire combed her fringe out of her face. This was a complete disaster. She really needed this guy to wake up. Looking off out of the recovery room, she saw the soldiers standing a little less alert than they had during the surgery. But she focused on the one man that risked more than the others. 

 

*~*~*

 

They waited with the security team, the chaos mounting down, and the collective sighs of relief as the operation went according to plan. Owen hand his hands on his hips as he paced the room, muttering a few things with Alec as though they had more things to discuss. Yet, the more Alec looked at him with a worrisome brow, it was clear that this act may have been his last. He knew it the moment he drew his gun, but he felt like he had no choice. Torn between duty and honour. It wasn’t right that he felt so compelled to follow in her righteous wake - but he had to do what was right to everyone in that camp. Which meant his head was on the line. 

The crackling of the others comms made Owen perk up. Alec nodded and Owen turned his back on, listening in on the orders. “Alpha team, Alec Warren, can you hear me? This is General Young,” Craig announced.

“Yes, sir, Sergeant Alec Warren.”

“Detain Captain Owen Grady for insubordination,” Craig directed, and the two friends looked to each other. Owen chewed on his lip, fingers digging into his side. Insubordination. Although Owen was never able to follow a straight order without fun, he’d never been charged with insubordination. A new low. “As your superior, I am proud of your actions, thank you.” The pair sighed as Craig did, “However, an order is an order.” Owen looked back at the other alpha team members, all avoiding his gaze. He knew they felt bad about this - but he couldn’t stop this. None of them could. 

Owen stepped forward to Alec, unarming himself, releasing the magazine from the gun and handing them both over. “I understand,” Owen reassured, undoing his vest and handing it off to Lowery, the subordinate still unable to meet Owen’s eye. 

“Thank you,” Alec nodded, standing at attention “Captain Owen Grady, you are charged with insubordination, do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Owen replied with a salute, “take care of things for me, will ya?” 

“Always do,” Alec reminded and Owen laughed. He looked to the security leader, nodding to him and having the same response back. Turning back to his best friend, Owen was content.

“Let’s go.”

They walked down to the chapel’s old supply room, a short distance from the chapel itself, but it was well away from everyone else. Owen and Alec walked inside, noting the small space that was mostly filled with their food supplies to a few mosquito repellents. In all, there were an abundance of items within the storeroom that kept the camp well fed and well looked after. And it was now Owen’s home for however long they needed it to be.

“On the General’s orders, you will be detained in the supply storeroom starting now,” Alec said as Owen turned around, his hand smacking on a bag filled with rice.

“I’d rather stay with the food, at least it will comfort me,” Owen said, and as Alec’s mask faded, the two laughed, unashamed of the joy they got from the worst moment possible. It was soon interrupted by Colonel Masrani walking in, anger written into his features. “Sir,” Owen saluted. 

“Get out, Warren,” he snapped.

“Sir,” Alec said, saluting and leaving, the door closing behind him. Simon suddenly pounced forward, hand smacking Owen upside the head, making the captain revert to being a teenage boy and trying to shield himself from a scolding. He had to stop the laugh that wanted to take over him, because he knew Simon - a man who would never harm someone, really - would actually kill him.

“You crazy lunatic! Look at yourself locked up in here,” he scolded, words filtered through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Owen replied. 

“You shouldn’t need to apologise!” he shouted and Owen pushed his shoulders back, trying to stand tall for his superior. “Do you know how many people are in trouble for your actions here?” he grumbled.

“I have no excuse to offer.” 

“Of course not,” Simon scoffed, hand raised to hit Owen again before falling back down to his side, “you had a straight path to becoming General...and now this,” he sighed, disappointment filling his voice. Owen raised his chin.  

“I don’t regret my actions,” he confirmed, Simon stepping back slightly, as though the words were unexpected, “I take full responsibility for what happened here tonight.” 

  
  


*~*~*

 

Claire heard the news before she even saw he was missing. When Xander got back with Karen in toe, they mentioned the soldiers escorting their captain down to the storeroom, and Claire bolted. She didn’t even let herself think about it - she just ran. Claire was out of breath when she saw the entrance - two armed soldiers with Alec pacing back and forth in front of the door. Claire smiled when she saw him, a comfort in her time of worry. He was always with Owen - an inseparable pair. 

“Alec! Where’s Captain Grady?” Claire called out, hunching down, hands on her knees as she caught her breath away. 

“He’s been detained, you can’t see him,” he said, a very stoic response. He felt foreign to her, a wall that she couldn’t get past. In the depths of a moment, she thought of Zara, what she saw past a wall like this that made her fall for him and vise versa. 

“Please, I just need five minutes,” she pleaded, and for a moment, she thought she saw the wall crack. Then, the door burst open, a man coming out with a furious look covering his body. He wanted to punch something badly, and it looked like he didn’t get that way often, almost as if it were so alien of him to get so mad. 

“Sergeant Warren, where is this insane Doctor Dearing? I need to see their face!” he yelled. As Alec buckled, trying to figure out what to say, he lied through his teeth.

“When the patient wakes -” 

“I’m Claire Dearing,” Claire interrupted, emerging from behind Alec and stepping towards the man. She would learn he was Colonel Simon Masrani, Owen’s superior and a supremely irritated man. Claire would guess this situation was making his blood pressure go through the roof with stress. 

They walked back to the medicube in silence, Claire’s fingers rubbing at her scrubs, almost learning every fibre of the material. Then, he stopped, the same stance as every soldier that Claire came into contact with. It was strange how trained they were, so similar that Claire could recognise that some were trained by the same person or not. 

“Is the patient still unconscious?” he asked. Claire nodded.

“He’s under observation.” 

“Anyone can say that,” he scoffed and Claire’s brow furrowed, “what if he doesn’t wake up?” 

“I made calculated decisions in order to perform this surgery,” she retaliated. 

“You’re very confident,” he quipped and Claire bound her hands. 

“I’m good at what I do.” 

“You should be aware that you just ruined that man’s career,” Claire’s jaw felt slack, unable to process what the soldier was saying. “His ten plus career of outstanding behaviour just went in the toilet because of what you did,” he snapped, leaving her with the news and walking away. Claire had to live with the fact that she couldn’t stop these events from unfolding...because she wanted to save a life, and Owen knew it. 

 

*~*~*

 

Alec and Barry escorted Simon back to his jeep, walking all the way to the colonel’s window to see him off. Alec stood at attention as he spoke to his commanding officer. “About the chairman’s status -” 

“You need to get to the airport, don’t think I forgot about your transfer because of this mess,” Simon growled and Alec sucked in a tight breath. Simon rarely got this angry with him - but Alec understood better than most how stressful Owen could be. It was a given with that man. Alec put his hand to his forehead, stiff fingers as he gave a salute to his superior.

“Understood sir,” he replied, and Simon rolled his eyes, waving the salute off. The jeep moved on leaving the two soldiers to stand there in silence for some time. “You know what this means, Snoopy?” he asked, hands on his hips as he looked to the exhausted first class sergeant. 

“Yes, sir,” her replied, standing to attention. 

“Make sure the camp runs safe in my absence. Owen gets a little wild without supervision, so I’d keep an eye on him,” Alec warned, and Barry cracked a smile, a quiver at the edge of his lip as he tried to contain it. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And trust me, this thing with the doctor, it’s going to get worse. You’re gonna have to deal with that bullshit too,” Alec warned, walking them both back to the storeroom. 

“We’re rooting for them, sir?” Barry asked and Alec scoffed.

“Oh yeah.” The two shared a look before erupting into laughs, a bittersweet moment that only they could share. Next to Owen, the rest of alpha team were like family - the closest thing to a brotherhood that Alec could get since childhood. Barry clapped Alec’s shoulder as they got to the storeroom. Stripping from his bulletproof vest and finding his cap in his back pocket, he paused at the threshold of the storeroom. Barry nodded, taking the heavy vest and leaving to get back to the main part of the camp. Opening the door, Alec walked in to see Owen leaning against some boxes on the side. He perked up when he saw Alec. 

It felt so much smaller inside, a prison that crowded around a man that felt too big for such a space. But it was just a room, crowded with things, and a man stripped down to the bare essentials. He was meant to be the small one. And yet, Alec couldn't help but idolise the man anyway. Alec went and stood opposite Owen. 

“Are you leaving now?” he asked and Alec cleared his throat, a soft nod as he looked back at his captain. 

“I have about twenty minutes.” 

“You don’t want to stay? I could hide you in a box,” Owen suggested, smacking his hand onto one of the boxes he leaned on. Alec shook his head, kicking at Owen’s shin. 

“I don’t think insubordination is a good look for me,” he challenged and Owen blew out a hot breath - offended and hurt. 

“I like your jokes,” Owen poked at Alec’s chest. 

“Sorry I have to leave like this,” he mumbled, and Owen nodded, head hanging slow, a defeated man. “I’m here to report for my transfer.” 

Owen shook his head. “Stop, I’m not even your superior anymore. Don’t bother,” he laughed.

“I stand by what my captain did today. It was the right thing to do. The honourable thing,” Alec said, and Owen’s head came back up, looking up at his fellow soldier, his best friend, his brother. Everything fit in together - the feeling amongst them mutual. Owen stood up straight.

“I’ll buy you a drink. Three days straight,” he smirked and Alec smiled.

“Three days straight,”  he replied before the two stood to attention and Alec giving his utmost respect to his best friend. “Sir, Sergeant Alec Warren was ordered to return to American Command.”

“You are relieved,” Owen stated, receiving the salute, and the two man standing in silence before they embraced each other tightly. They held onto their hug for as long as they could, making sure the feeling didn’t fade. It was hard to let go of someone that was in more danger than oneself. Alec didn’t want to leave. But he had to. 

He walked to the medicube, finding the recovery room and see Claire watching over her patient. He sighed, walking in and her attention already fixed on him. Alec understood the attraction to her - what Owen must have felt when he first saw her - there was a warmth to her when she smiled, and a seriousness that was respectful in moments of crisis. 

Alec snapped to attention, giving an official statement and report to her. “8:50pm. You have ten minutes,” he offered and Claire smiled. It was warm in the afterglow. 

He watched the doctor walk down the incline to the storeroom, sitting in the car with one of the troops. But Alec couldn’t wait anymore. He looked to the private, “we can go.” And they were off. It was the last gift Alec could give before he was separated from his best friend for god knows how long. 

It was his last gift. 

 

*~*~*

 

Walking to the store room, Claire felt her palms get sweaty. She felt unnaturally nervous and the lack of soldiers out the front as before made her even more so. But Alec had arranged it - privacy for the pair as Claire had wanted not an hour before. Binding her hands into her scrubs, she gathered the courage and spoke. 

“Hi,” Claire swallowed the feeling in her chest, “it’s Claire,” she said softer. It was silent inside, only for the dirt to shift under footsteps, and the scrapping of it as someone sat down against the wall. The break in the door’s vents was how their voices travelled so easily, the wood old, but still containing the captain within. She wondered if he was going to reply when he suddenly spoke.

“Hi,” he said, voice sounding happier than she thought it would, “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he laughed, and Claire shifted down, sitting on the ground. 

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Assault is grounds for deportation nowadays,” she reminded him, her conditions upon being there strictly as punishment. 

“It’s really good seeing you,” he started before he laughed, “hearing you. Whichever it is.” His laugh was beautiful and warm. 

“I’m sorry,” Claire worried, swallowing the shake in her body. “the patient isn’t waking up and I’m scared he isn’t going to,” Claire’s voice broke and she tried clearing her throat, but the scratch at the back made her feel so uncomfortable, she couldn’t shake the fear in her anymore. Claire clutched her arms around her legs, bringing her knees up to her chest. It was the tightest she ever thought she held herself. 

“You worry about too many men. I think I’m the only one you need to be worried about,” he chimed and Claire shook her head. “I just realised something.” 

“What?” 

“You were right, you do look sexy in the operating room,” he said and Claire choked on her breath. 

“Why did you do it? You could have done nothing and you would have been fine. This wouldn’t be happening,” she asked, trying hard not to laugh at the ridiculous man kept apart from her. 

“I told you my rule,” he said, “to protect beautiful woman, seniors and children,” and Claire remember what he had said - the joke he had made once. Instead of making her laugh, it made her feel weak - helpless and unable to save this person who she had no control over. “A beauty and an old man. What more could I ask for?” Claire was holding it together, she was determined to do so, but the quivering of her lip made everything so hard. Biting it did nothing. “You were pretty brave today, do you know that?” he said, voice soft and caring - Claire broke, burying her face into her knees as she finally started to sob. “Hey, are you crying?” he asked, and Claire couldn’t handle it. She cried a little more, taking in strangled breaths before sniffing and containing the desperate ache in her chest.

“How is it in there? Do you need anything?” 

“C4 or RDX.”

“What’s that?” Owen laughed on the other side. 

“Explosives,” he explained, “I was okay until a minute ago, but I really have to break out now.” 

Claire laughed, the hiccup of a small sob interrupting the small chuckles. “Are you seriously joking around right now?” she asked clearing away the tears. He had a way of doing this - the serious moments taken as minor inconveniences. Claire suspected he couldn’t help it

“You’re crying, what else can I do behind a locked door?” he asked and Claire breathed out a small laugh, coming hair out of her face as she composed herself. 

“You’re so stupid,” she laughed. 

“I know.” He must have thought he was clever with that - their own version of star wars captured in two sentences. He laughed either way. Claire wanted to say more, apologise maybe, but it was no use. The troops that were on patrol before were now walking back to their station. 

“My time’s up,” Claire said, and Owen sighed on the other side, a soft thud making it seem like he hit his head against the wall. Claire took in a deep breath, reaching into her pocket to pull out the rounded stone, white and crisp. Palming it in her hand, Claire glanced down at the broken gap in the wooden vent, sticking her hand through, “here,” she said, “I think you need this a little more.” Claire felt Owen’s fingers touch at her skin, barely even registering the stone at all, before he tentatively took the rock from her hand. “I expect it back when you get out,” she snapped quickly, and it seemed to amuse Owen. 

“Thank you.” 

“I have to go,” she repeated, and stood up, nodding to the soldiers and walking back towards the medicube. Claire couldn’t help but look back at the supply room, a little building just a little ways away from the chapel….and wonder what Owen could be thinking about - would he sit there all night and berate himself for something so good as saving a man’s life? Or would he just sleep fine? In the midst of a moment, Claire’s mind raced, but she couldn’t think on it anymore, and walked back to the medicube. 

 

*

 

When Claire had made her way into the medicube recovery room, she saw the treated boy from earlier that night hovering over the chairman’s bed, hand on the man’s forehead. Claire bolted to the boy, seeing the security team lurch for the boy and snatch his hand away. 

“Watch it!” Claire scowled, “he’s just a kid!” 

“Better,” said the boy, pointing to the man. The doctors all stood, watching as the Arab doctor and the security began to hover over the chairman again. They spoke in Arabic, so Claire was once again lost in translation, not following what they were saying - but she could gather the context. 

_ Sir, are you awake? Sir, can you hear me? Sir, move your eyes or blink for me, please?  _

All sensible requests after surgery. 

Claire peered over the Arab doctor’s shoulder, clutching her hand into the young boy’s chest. Her team was gathering around her, all eager to see if the chairman was responding in anyway. A cheer almost rocked the medicube when the chairman gave an weak breath, and gave a sluggish nod to the questions being asked. Smiling to the little boy, Claire put a hand to his chest and mouthed ‘thank you’, not knowing if he understood or not. He smiled back anyway. 

Claire and the chairman’s doctor talked for over an hour to discuss how the surgery had truly gone, the scar tissue that caused the issue and possible remedies the doctor could recommend even when he was abroad. They argued for some of it, but most of the context of their conversation were ways they could improve the chairman’s wellbeing from that point on in the care of the medicube. 

They gave him additional pain relief and anymore medication that would help improve his pre-existing conditions. 

In the end, Claire was happy with the results. 

 

*

 

The chairman left the next morning, lifting in a helicopter to continue on with his business. He waved to the medical team and the soldiers that were all at attention to his departure. Claire sighed as she watched the helicopter move off into the distance, and then, her life as a doctor came back into focus. More soldiers needed treating, and there were more workers from the construction sight that had some injuries that needed to be taken care of. 

For a moment, she thought it felt like her life in the ER, a chaotic case, met with the mundae right after. Only now she was surrounded by more heat, and more dirt. Either way, she could live well with her slice of chaos.

 

*~*~*

 

Alec hulled his duffle onto his shoulder as Barry spoke on the other end of the phone. The airport was busy with moving soldiers moving to and from their stationed locations across the state or leaving to go home after a long stay abroad. “The patient has left the camp with his doctor. The surgery was very successful, they sounded pleased,” Barry shouted, but it was needed over the roaring noise of the helicopter, “it’s all done.” 

“Good.” 

“You have nothing to worry about, so get home safely,” he said, voice remaining trained until he broke into a laugh. “There’s a puppy here who wants to talk to you,” he said and Alec cracked a smile. 

“Sir! Private Rickard Dunn! Why are you leaving me, sir?” he sounded like a broken teenager - lost and confused as to what to do next. Alec felt bad for leaving him, but it was something the younger recruit had to deal with; life was a bitch and being around those that comfort you isn’t always going to be the case. 

“You’re a baby. We’ll see each other soon. But in the meantime, be good for Snoopy, and try and look into those cooking colleges. You’d be great,” he told him sternly, and Rick sniffed on the other end. 

“Yes, sir,” he replied a sob and Alec tried not to laugh at the obvious upset nature of the twenty year old. It was hard for Alec to see him as anything other than a younger brother, and it made him a little detached to the boys emotional strain. He knew he’d be safe with the rest of Alpha. He was sure that Rick and Cian would get on like a house on fire, but only time would tell. 

“I have to leave now, stay safe,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!” The two soldiers on the other end replied, and the phone called died. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he rounded a corner, seeing a waiting chopper, massive and waiting for him. He knew it was his - he was on time for everything in his life, and even if he didn’t want to go, he was going to leave when he was ordered to. 

Walking towards the aircraft, he took long strides to make it to chopper on time. Until he saw who came out of it. The universe had a cruel way of making jokes. He’d rather be shot...or hit by a bus, it’d hurt a fucktonne less than seeing her. Zara had yet to see him, walking with her kit on her back and a duffle in hand, she seemed ready to get to camp - happier than most soldiers going to a country that was dirt hot every hour of the day. 

Alec kept walking, watching her every step. And when she saw him, she froze. He understood, he was so calm before she arrived, and now he felt himself waver. The realisation of him being there must have dawned on her, but she still seemed confused - broken up on something she couldn’t understand yet. They met halfway, Alec needing to stand to attention for her. Feet together, shoulders tight, bags put down next to his feet. Zara let her go loose as well, resting parallel to his own. 

“You’re just the person I’m looking for, but you shouldn’t be  _ here _ ,” she said, looking him up and down. “Where are you going?” 

“Sergeant Alec Warren, I was ordered to -” he began, voice of a soldier, rounding off order, only to be cut off by a scorned hand across his face. Her palm was soft, but the strike itself was like a bullet. Alec shifted his jaw back and forth, trying to feel right once more. “...to return to the United States of America,” he concluded and Zara’s bottom lip quivered. Zara Young - one hell of a woman, close to tears, and Alec had never seen her so broken. Even when he ‘broke up’ with her, she was furious, she never cried in front of him. Now...she had tears forming in her eyes. 

She’d never be able to live with her father reigning over her. 

“Say it’s a strategic retreat,” she said, fist bound and pounding on his chest, “tell me to wait,” she whimpered, another fist as she sunk into her cries, “say you’ll do whatever it takes to come back!” she said, repeatedly hitting him until Alec’s own heart couldn’t take it. He grabbed hold of her wrists, stopped them from beating on him, and held onto her as tightly as he could. She gasped, before slightly sobbing into his chest again. 

“The insects bite, wear your uniform at all times, even when it’s hot,” he said, hiding the fact that his chest felt so fucking hollow - how he could leave when she was breaking was a concept he couldn’t bring himself to face yet. 

“Why do you always have to do things like this? Can’t you just be clear with what you want?” she asked, breaking apart their hug to look at him. Alec wanted to reach his hand up, wipe away the tears and kiss her….god did he want to kiss her. 

“Take care of yourself. That’s what I want,” he said, scrunching up his nose and picking up his bags again. He walked to the helicopter, trying his hardest not to look back. Alec knew if he did, he’s stay and never leave. He just wanted what they had once, when things were simple, and their heart didn’t break when they caught sight of each other. He wanted to smile like he used to. 

 

*

 

_ It was one of those weddings, non-traditional, but fun nonetheless. Alec explained it to Zara, walking up the venues foyer - they could visit and congratulate the bride on her day before the wedding commenced. It was Alec’s plan. “You must have loved her a lot to be doing this,” Zara said, fixing her dress as she walked with Alec. _

_ “Why do you care?”  _

_ “There are various levels of revenge,” she said, walking up beside him as they climbed the stairs. They could see into the room, the bridge sitting on the chair, smiling with her flowers in hand. Alec wondered if Rachel had ever looked so beautiful….or happy. _

_ “I promised to always make her happy.”  _

_ “No bride is going to be happy if her wedding is ruined.”  _

_ “You can’t be happy if you have regrets,” Alec said. _

_ “So it isn’t revenge,” Zara caught his arm and he looked at her, watching as the moment dawned on her, “you’re here to comfort her?” she asked. He uncurled her fingers from his arm and moved past her, walking up the stairs and being guided to the room.  _

_ When he came in front of Rachel, she saw him and dropped the flowers to her lap. From the moment she looked happy, she completely came apart. Shocked, sad, heartbroken. A mix of it all.  _

_ “What are you doing here?” she asked in hushed tones.  _

_ “I came to see the guy. The guy that stole your heart,” Alec lied. _

_ “Don’t say hello to him!” she yelled in a whisper, face distorting to complete panic. _

_ “Maybe on the way out.” He remained tight lipped.  _

_ “Alec,” she tried. Alec felt a hand snake around his arm, a body pressing up to his side. He didn’t react as Zara came into the view of his periphery.  _

_ “Nice to meet you, and congratulations,” she waved, voice much higher than it was before.  _

_ “Who is this?” Rachel asked, looking back and forth between the pair. Alec swallowed, and Zara gripped his arm tighter.  _

_ “Thanks for letting him go, he’s one of a kind,” she said, a laugh that didn’t match her personality came through her lips.  _

_ “Alec what is this?”  _

_ Alec moved Zara’s hand down, gripping his fingers with hers. He felt Zara look up at him, the eyes of someone who was curious and shocked, but she didn’t let it show. Because Rachel still looked like he was creating a scene. “I’m done chasing after you, and I’m tired of feeling like a dog waiting for a bone. I’m happy now, and I just wanted you to know that,” he confessed and from shock came an almost pleasant surprise. He did want to be happy - but more than anything...he wanted Rachel to be better off with who she was meant to be marrying. “So please, live a happy life,” he nodded, tugging on Zara’s hand and she followed after him. _

_ They left. Alec didn’t need to go through seeing his ex get married - the relief on her face as he was leaving was enough. She didn’t need him. And for once...he was thinking he didn’t need her.  _

_ In a bar, one that Alec hadn’t really gotten the name of, the two sat opposite each other, drinking shots and ordering beer when they felt the need to drown a little more. “Do you have regrets?” Zara asked, looking to him as she downed another shot of whiskey. Alec wrinkled his nose as he watched her hiss.  _

_ “Many,” he shrugged, which made Zara tilt her head - curiosity taking hold, “but not for this,” he said. Zara raised her brow before grabbing the bottle of whiskey from in front of Alec. _

_ “I upheld my part of the bargain, can you do the same?”  Zara replied, pouring the shot glass again and throwing it back in under a few moments. Alec smiled and watched her, then, he simpled nodded. _

_ “Yes.”  _

_ It only took two weeks for the news to circulate through the divisions, Alec slowly getting more attention than he was used to and having more eyes on him than usual. It was agreed over an angry text that Zara and Alec needed to meet and keep in touch as they faked their relationship. _

_ “I said I was dating you, why are you getting upset?” he asked and Zara stood up from the table and smacked him upside the head. She had cut her hair since the wedding, shortened down to her shoulders and she combed it out of her face.  _

_ “Because everyone thinks I’m a spinster or something,” she groaned, slouching back into her chair, folding her arms and grumbling to herself.  _

_ “Spinster,” Alec laughed.  _

_ “I’ll gladly throw this in your face,” Zara warned, handling the glass of wine in her hand.  _

_ “You like wine too much to do that,” Alec muttered, drinking at his beer.  _

_ “Stop doing that,” she scowled. Zara reached over the table and smacked his head again. _

_ “Ah! Watch it!”  _

_ “Did you tell people we were sleeping together?”  _

_ “I didn’t, but why does it -” Alec stopped himself, brow furrowed. “You can’t be a spinster by also sleeping with someone.”  _

_ “Alec! Focus,” Zara snapped her fingers.  _

_ “I didn’t. I’m just not sure why it matters? If we’re seeing each other, wouldn’t it naturally lead to -”  _

_ “No! We only just started dating,” she said, sitting up straight and looked around to see if her voice was too loud. It wasn’t, but it was kinda cute that she thought she was embarrassing herself.  _

_ “Okay, I know how fast you move in a relationship,” Alec smirked and  _

_ “Well how fast do you move?”  _

_ “Care to find out?”  _

_ “I hate you,” Zara grumbled, slouching in her chair again.  _

_ A month or so had past before another dinner and beer meeting was required. Even though they saw each other every week, keeping up the charade, they still met to regroup when they weren’t texting one another. Zara was still hung up about people getting ideas about the pair that weren’t to her liking.   _

_ “You men are all the same! I’m seen as an easy target now!” she snapped and Alec almost choked on his beer.  _

_ “If we’re dating, why do men think you’re easy? You’re unavailable,” he said, and it seemed like Zara had the same idea.  _

_ “You tell me!”  _

_ “I don’t know!”  _

_ The answer was not what she wanted to hear before she was already reaching over the table when Alec ducked down, trying to kick his way out of the booth and avoid her wrath. “Come here, I’m going to kill you,” she called out, and Alec couldn’t help but laugh when she tried to chase him over the table.  _

_ Another few months later, and Alec a full blown sucker, they walked out of the resturant, Zara’s hair longer and blowing as the nightly wind picked up. Alec walked ahead of her down the stairs of the second floor.  _

_ “Why does this all matter?” he complained. _

_ “It matters,” she mumbled behind him. Alec stopped short on the stairs waiting for him to get in toe with him.  _

_ “Why not just make the rumours true?” he asked. Zara’s jaw went slack as she slapped at his chest and he knee coming up to meet in between his legs. Alec blocked it only to be hit against the head. _

_ “You sleazy little -”  _

_ “Zara, just date me,” he laughed. For once, she stopped her assault on him.  _

_ “What?”  _

_ He straightened, fixing his hair and putting his hands into his pockets. For the first time in a while, he felt himself get nervous, smiling to the woman he actually enjoyed the company of. And sure, it started out fake, but with the soft jesting from Owen and the way Zara felt comfortable with him - it made him feel like he had a rightful place next to her. Plus, it didn’t help that she was drop dead gorgeous. And he  _ liked _ her. “Date me. We’ve been going out like this for months, just date me, for real,”  _

_ “I..” she stuttered, clearing her throat several times and looking him up and down, “fine,” she agreed, a harsh red creeping onto her face  _

_ “Fine,” Alec smirked, “no need to get flustered, lieutenant,” he winked and Zara scoffed. _

_ “Come here,” she said, jumping up and onto Alec’s back, arms tight around him and reaching to pinch at places on his chest. _

_ “I’m sorry!” he laughed, walking down the stairs, carrying her on his back as her frustrated groans on his back turned to laughter.  _

_ And from then on, it felt like Alec only knew how to smile.  _

_ Until he forgot.  _

 

*~*~*

 

It wasn’t long until Owen was released, only a day after the patient had left the camp for full recovery elsewhere. Owen was notified of their departure, but it wasn’t until the next day that he was allowed release. Owen had some idea what this meant - his release and knowing he’d be disciplined in some way. They didn’t want this day to exist. It was clear that his involvement, the camps, even the doctors that operated on the chairman had not even come into contact with the man. When Owen left the storeroom, he was accompanied by the rest of alpha team towards the chapel.

There he found a giant meal of different dishes scattered across two tables that were filled with every soldier in the camp. It was lunch for the men around him. Owen chuckled as they allowed him a seat at the head of the one of the table. Rick stood to one side, apron on and looking a little overworked, but still happy with his effort. 

“Seriously?” Owen asked, looking around to his men, “you let him make all of this?” 

“For our captain that spent time in the guardhouse, this is for his release,” Rick announced and Owen frowned, looking up the private. 

“Released?” he asked. Rick thought on some words for a moment, humming as he considered his next sentence. 

“Appearance, then?” 

“Your captain is  _ present _ !” Owen snapped, smacking Rick in the belly. He laughed as he nodded to Owen. “Attention, everyone,” he called.

“Attention!” The men dropped their forks and sat up right, hands by their sides. Owen looked around, hands on his hips as he took a good look at his men.

“You’ve all done well over the course of a few days,” he said, smiling fondly on them,“and with the absence of sergeant Warren, you’ve all been working extremely hard. It’s an honour to serve with you all.” All the men smiled to themselves, proud of their achievements over the last few days. It made Owen feel accomplished in some way. “Now, eat up!”

“Yes, sir!” They all called back and started to dig into the food. 

The doors to the chapel burst open, a scattered redhead charging into the room only to stop short and almost trip as she realised that the room was not in fact empty. Her face became a pinkish hue and she turned on her heels. 

“Why are you leaving? Aren’t you here to see me?” Owen called and Claire cleared her throat, tucking her foot behind her opposte ankle.

“Later. Enjoy your meal first,” she said, waving the issue off.

“No, we’ll talk now,” Owen interrupted, walking over to her and guiding them both off to an area they could have some privacy.

In a mess of the old ruins, the laundry hung and hiding the pair from the view of anyone. Claire had avoided his eye, kicking at stones as she leaned against a wall that was split in half after years of wear. There were words that couldn’t be said things that needed to remain between them in only a moment and never repeated. He felt that Claire was eager to forget her weak moments - where she didn’t stand taller than everyone and crumbled to the floor. Owen understood, and kept the moment as nonexistent as she wanted. 

“So, you saved him,” he said, and she stood up right, fixing her dress and she seemed like she was no longer trapped in a self conscious shell. 

“I told you I was good,” Claire boasted, chin rising with a cheeky smile on her lips, “anyway, you told me to save him,” she replied. 

“And you listened to me? I’m surprised,” Owen shrugged, hiding the grin he couldn’t help whenever he was around Claire.

“Shut up,” she scoffed. “Thank you for trusting me,” she mumbled, her voice far softer than the joking of a moment before. Owen’s hands met, crackling at his knuckles as he felt his heart race. She looked...bright. A brightness that made those around them seem like specs in the night sky and she was the moon. She was colourful in the grayscale life that was fit for a soldier. In the midst of it all - Claire provided the simplest thing he had been missing, but had long forgotten what they were. Every time he saw her, he remembered, and the years without it felt like a waste when she was around. 

“Weren’t you scared?” he asked, shifting his weight onto one hip. Claire shrugged, stepping one foot closer to him. 

“A little,” she said, looking up at him. “Weren’t you?” 

“I’m relatively used to these kinds of situations,” he explained, and Claire had a moment of shock - sweet realisation of his chaotic life, “but I was scared,” he nodded. There was a look of surprise on Claire’s face, unsuspecting of his honesty perhaps, or simply that she must have known what he was scared for. 

“Captain,” a voice said nearby, and the two looked away from each other, realising that a world outside of themselves existed. Rick stood nearby, indicating to look off further. To the complete shock of the pair, they saw the chairman’s security waiting beside a black car, a smile on his face as he offers them a ride. 

 

*~*~*

 

It was explained briefly along the way - the chairman wanted to see both of them. It didn’t seem like a bad thing, or even like it was going to be something more than a smile and a handshake. Maybe a picture if Claire remembered to ask. They drove to the hotel in silence, not really asking questions - though Claire had many, but Owen remained silent and kept his eyes forward. She wondered if his mind raced with possibilities of threats, or he was just bored on their journey. Either way, he never made outward signs of unease, and it put Claire in a better mood. 

They arrived to the suite, standing next to each other as they waited for the people on the other side. Claire rocked back and forth, her fingers running a line down a pleat in skirt of her dress. Maybe she needed to fix how she looked? Or did she need to take off her heels to get a better chance of running with Owen? Hell, she could run in these heels if the occasion called for it.

“Everything is fine, stop fidgeting,” Owen said suddenly, and Claire looked up at him. He face the door, hands behind his back and feet shoulder length apart. Somehow, he looked completely composed - no fear, nothing was registering on his face. Claire turned, holding her arms in front of her chest. 

“Are you saying I’m nervous?” 

Owen scoffed as he looked at her. “I  _ know _ you are. You haven’t stopped checking on me since we got in the car.” 

Claire swallowed. “Maybe you just look good today,” she lied. Well...sort of.

“I look good every day,” he corrected, looking back at the door. “You’re checking to see if I react,” he said, a stare at the door like he was seeing through the wood. Then, it eased. “I’m not going to, ‘cause nothing is wrong.” _ Could he actually see through fucking wood? _ Claire thought to herself before the doors opened. Claire turned back and stood with her hands at her sides. The chairman sat on the other side in a wheelchair - common for someone after a massive surgery, limited movement, plenty of rest. 

“Captain Grady and Doctor Dearing, welcome,” The Chairman spoke in stunted english, but he smiled and gestured for them to sit down. They walked into the room and sat next to each other on the couch. Claire’s hand overlapped each other, trying to find a way that they were comfortable, but every way she did felt fake and trying to appear natural. Owen’s hands overlapped hers and she looked to him. When his brow rose, he challenged her to fight him on this.  _ Everything was okay, calm down.  _

One breath, and she was calm. Owen’s hand left hers and the chairman came to them, sitting at one end of the coffee table. Claire smiled to the man, and she couldn’t help but note that he looked a lot more alert, colour had returned to his features, and he seemed less stiff. It was a good recovery so far. She didn’t expect it after such a surgery but he was handling it well. 

“Thanks to you two, my life is saved. I’m very grateful,” he said, a nod of his head, lower than expected - a bow. Claire bowed back, hands in her lap again, but finding a natural place amongst each other. 

“Since you have a heart condition, stress is very dangerous, you should really consider stress relieving activities in order to keep your heart in check,” she said, realising she was only talking about his health and welfare, but it was what came naturally. Give her any medical condition and she could give any remedy, but people, their emotional support and complexities were sometimes a little foreign to her. 

“It’s always the nagging with my own doctors, you are very softly spoken, thank you for your advice,” The Chairman laughed and Claire couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. It was a comfort to have a man that seemed to be around those who were incredibly strict with him. 

“It was an honour to have treated such a great person,” she nodded, a respect she knew she could give. 

“I thank you, doctor. From what I heard, you were very thorough with your treatment.” Claire smiled, a sigh leaving her that sounded relieved. It wasn’t uncommon that doctors could get defensive with their patients, and she was scared she may have offended someone along the way with her decision making. “Here is a small gift,” he said, the lead security person walked to Claire and Owen, handing them both cards. 

“It’s not just any business card,” The security member said, nodding to her, “it will save you in about any situation,” he shrugged before he said, “anywhere there are Arabs.” Claire and Owen exchanged looks as they examined the almost blank cards. Gold with a few Arabic letters on it. She couldn’t read it, but Owen seemed to as he nodded as he read. 

“As a gift, as well,” The chairman interrupted, “we’d like to treat you to a special meal at one of the restaurants in Damascus,” he said and Claire felt her throat go tight, “there is already a reservation, so please enjoy,” he smiled, eager to please the two of them. Claire looked to Owen, her jaw going slack, her brow scrunching as she was trying to figure out an excuse that wouldn’t offend either of the men. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to have a meal with Owen - it was just a little forced, and well...she didn’t want Owen to feel obligated to go. 

“Oh, well, I -” 

“Thank you, Chairman Rahal,” Owen interrupted, nodding to him before he gave a hearty salute. If Claire was right, she thought she even saw Owen smirk on one side of his lip. 

 

*

 

They were guided to the restaurant in Damascus, table out in the open and mostly empty. It gave the pair room to talk as freely as they wanted. Owen mentioned that one of the troops had left a car beside the restaurant for when they needed to get back to camp, but it was the only few words they spoke to each other. Claire ordered a drink, the punch resting in front of her and her fingers dancing on the base, trying to figure out if she sip it before Owen drank his. She just felt like they were forced to be friends when something lingered with discomfort between them. 

“Why did you become a doctor?” Owen asked, and for a moment, Claire thought. She shrugged, leaning back into her chair. 

“Doctors seemed to be paid well,” she started, “my family always struggled when I was growing up and I didn’t want to be chased by money my entire life.” Taking a sip of her water, she looked at Owen, the look on his face a mixture of curiosity and judgement, the harsh lines across his brow telling her as much. Claire crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “You can call me materialistic if you like, but that’s how I knew I wanted to be a doctor.” 

“Why do you always make yourself out to be a bad person?” Owen’s nose scrunched as he questioned her. Claire licked her lips, holding herself a little tighter; she felt the need to protect herself from him, the put up the walls that were built up, and had slowly torn down over her short stay in the foreign country. This - a secluded moment - needed protecting to her. She wanted to stay safe. 

“A lot happened since you were gone,” she said, shifting as she felt the knot in her shoulder, “and I guess I’ve changed a lot since then too,” “you don’t look much different,” 

“I’ve become more handsome, can’t you tell?” he said, barely a change in his tone. 

“Your jokes are the same, I see,” Claire chuckled, drinking a little more before placing it back on the table and then she looked to Owen. He did seem different; changed to a point where he was still the same man, just a little less of himself. A hollow version, a Russian doll that had failed to find its inner figurines. 

“Your smile is even prettier,” he said, the words comforting and yet shocking to hear all at once. Claire wasn’t sure what to say, where she could go with something like that. He was saying it without restraint, letting his feelings be known in the smallest way possible. Owen hadn’t been so direct, dancing around everything, and this was out of characters. Claire chewed on the inside of her lip, thinking of something to say when his phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said, picking it up and replying to the person on the other end. “Yes, it’s me,” he said. The knot in his brow grew tighter, and he shifted in his chair. “The UN? Who?” Then, his head went in his free hand, nodding along to the words on the other end and suddenly hanging up. Claire wasn’t sure what to make of it, but Owen sat up straight again, same military shoulders as before. “I’m sorry but -” 

“Again?” Claire said, and Owen’s mouth opened slightly. “You need to take off again?” 

“Yes. You can take the car,” he said with a nod. Claire rolled her eyes and combed her hand through her hair. 

“The end of all our dates seems to be the same. At home and here,” she snapped and Owen sighed, hand running through his hair. “Where are you going?” she asked a little softer than before. 

“You aren’t prohibited from going where I need to,” he explained, swallowing hard enough for Claire to notice, “and I don’t think taking you there will play to my advantage,” he laughed, trying to avoid the situation, but Claire shook her head. 

“Why do you always want the upper hand?” 

“Because of my work, I will always have the lower hand in this relationship.” Claire bit her lip and raised her chin. 

“What if I still want to go with you?” Owen tilted his head and stood, gesturing towards the car. 

 

*

 

Claire wasn’t sure what she was getting herself into, what this all meant with her being here. It was an airport in Damascus, practically empty - save for a military aeroplane...and a casket set near the still craft. She stood on the outskirts of the airport, watching as a few dozen people, military and civilian, all gathered and walked to the casket, placing flowers down. It was strange to be apart of something, but not sure what it all meant. It was a funeral. Someone had died. Owen knew them. 

And Owen was sad. 

As much as he tried to cover it, there was something in the way that his shoulders hung, less straight, and even though tried to puff up his chest to stand at attention - there was something terribly flat about how he held himself. When the line dwindled down, Owen let himself walk to the casket, strides slow and careful. A tenderness to him, as though he was scared the earth was going to swallow him whole. Fear. Fear it was all real. A slow walk of a frightened man losing something dear to him. 

His hand raised to his forehead, his salute pained and stiff. It seemed to last as long as his walk, but it felt necessary. Owen lowered his hand and knelt down, touching his hand to a picture in front of the coffin. The box, draped in a flag, stayed solid and unmoving as Owen looked at it. He was so focused, it was was though he was readying for it to move and change his perception. But it didn’t. 

Owen walked away and gave a soft wave to a man off with the others. 

Claire’s vision was interrupted by a passing car - the man inside the backseat looking at her under his shades. He had to be American with that skin tone and arrogance to match. It was for only a moment, but it was enough to send a chill down her back. Regaining her composure, she watched as Owen talked with a shaggy headed man - younger than he was, but only by a few years. They seemed friendly enough, but there was a lingering melancholy that hung between them. It didn’t help that a casket stood behind them, of someone they both knew. When Owen embraced the man, short but strength behind the arms, they exchanged a look and moved on from each other. Claire stood near the car, waiting as Owen returned, not saying a word before they both got in and drove back towards the camp. 

 

*

 

It was night when they arrived, and although Claire was hungry, there was a part of her that didn’t want to leave Owen’s side. He felt like a different man than he had been interacting with all day. They got out of the car and met each other at the middle ground, Owen stood with his hands on his hips. “It was a long day,” he said, gesturing off to the tents, “get some rest.” He was about to turn when the words escaped her mouth. 

“Was he a friend?” Claire asked, pursing her lips as she waited. Owen chuckled to himself. 

“You kept that in the entire trip?” he asked and pointed at her, amused. “You’re good,” he laughed again before he nodded to her question, “he was someone I fought with.” 

“What happened?” she asked tentatively. 

“What happens when you try to maintain peace,” he nodded, looking up at the stars in the sky. They were bright, but it wasn’t what was on Claire’s mind. 

Claire tried to say something, the thought crossing her mind over and over again, she had to let it out. “That means that you can -”

“Yes, so let’s not talk about it,” Owen interjected, and Claire’s heart felt like it had been pierced - the seriousness of it all making so much more sense than it had before. “See, this did give me the lower hand,” he finished, and Claire wanted to say something - anything, but Owen ended their conversation before she could start one, “good night.” 

She watched him walk up the back steps of the chapel, an entrance to the office and his room. It was an entrance that everyone had wondered about and the soldiers mentioning off handedly to the medical staff to stop the questions. He rested his hand on the door, before his head fell on it, resting there for a moment before it seemed like he crumbled. He turned and put his back on the door, sliding down until he was on the ground. He looked up at the night sky, but everything about him seemed to want to cry. 

Claire swallowed her worry and moved on - his sorrow should be his own, Claire didn’t need to be a bystander. She knew she couldn’t comfort him, even if she wanted to - they weren’t...everything was still muddy between them. Claire walked to the tents, finding Karen on her bed and offering up her meal she had in her hand. Sighing, Claire sat with her sister, eating and talking for an hour or so, just letting the day take hold, and for Claire to process it all as well. 

In the end, Claire wasn’t any clearer on how she should be acting around Owen. 

Her heart was still all over the place. 

 

*

 

The next morning, Claire wanted to see Owen - see how he was doing. As the night dragged on, Claire felt more and more guilty having left Owen on his own after such a day. It was one thing to go to a funeral, but Owen had no one to go to. Alec wasn’t around, and theirs were the only path he could go down. Did she not make herself open enough to talk to? In the end, Claire walked the entire camp, only to come up empty. When the passing shirtless squadron rounded the corner, Claire saw Barry at the back of the pack, chanting along with the troops and guiding them on their journey. 

“Sergeant Sembène,” Claire called out, and the sergeant looked at her. He called out to the group to do two more laps and jogged to her side. “I can’t find Captain Grady, do you know where he is?” she asked and as Barry panted, he looked at her with contempt. She wasn’t used to such a look on a man who held himself so strictly. 

“He’s at headquarters for his disciplinary meeting,” he said in between breaths. 

“I-I thought that was all done with?” she stuttered, covering her eyes from the sun to see him better. He still looked irritated.

“Insubordination is a prison sentence under military law,” he snapped, composing himself to apologise. Barry explained the ways in which things are done - Owen was going down for being apart of saving a man’s life. The minute she could, Claire ran to find transport. 

 

*~*~*

 

“Again, I cannot give you an official disciplinary action,” Simon explained and Owen tightened his hands at his sides. He knew this would be coming. “But we cannot let insubordination go overlooked,” Simon snapped and Owen raised his chin, listening intently. “So, instead, we’ll be using your mishandling of bomb disarmament. You’ll have reduced pay for three months. Do you object?” he said. Owen had come prepared for reprimanding - dress uniform, different to his combat, and pinned in tightly to make himself looked presentable. There were times where Owen hated wearing the uniform - but this wasn’t an occasion where he could wear his military vest. Thought it would be a terribly nice comfort. 

“I do not,” Owen replied. 

“You will also not be a candidate for promotion in the coming future. Do you object?” Simon said, and Owen paused, swallowing the frustration he was currently feeling. He was okay with the money thing - it was only for three months - but this was his entire future as a soldier. It wouldn’t be ‘in the coming future’, it was ‘you won’t be a major. Period’ and that’s what Owen hated about all this. 

“I do not.” Owen hated the lie that he pressed to his teeth, but he had no choice but to comply. 

“Can you just!” They all heard from outside, turning towards the tent opening. Owen felt himself shrink from his uptight posture to concerned for everyone else’s safety kinda look. “Hey! I think I have a say here!” Claire snapped and Owen turned to Simon, who stared curiously at the tent entrance. 

“Sir, can I leave to handle this?” 

“Uh…” he started. 

“She’s going to kill someone if she doesn’t know what’s going on,” Owen interrupted.

“Alright, dismissed Captain,” he said and Owen rushed out after saluting his superior. Dashing out of the tent, he found Claire arguing with a soldier that looked more terrified of her than staring down an AK47. He was backing up, not being able to stand his ground, and the redhead was furious, trying her hardest to move beyond the threshold. Owen moved to them instead, lightly tugging Claire away from the entrance to limit their conversation being heard.

“Owen,” Claire said, almost breathless as she smiled and stared at him for a moment. Then, she frowned, looking for some sort of fault in his appearance. “What’s -” 

“What are you doing here?” Owen asked through gritted teeth. 

“I thought you were being sent to prison?” she asked and Owen shook his head. 

“There was no operation. Do you understand?” Claire’s brow knit together, stepping back from Owen as she tried to process what he was saying. He really wanted her to catch her - he didn’t know how else to handle this fuck up.  

“But I just -” 

“They still need to punish me, but it’s not as bad as prison, do you understand what I’m saying?” 

“Yes,” she said softly, “god, you could have told me!” She snapped, jabbing him hard in the chest. Owen groaned at the pain, and rubbed at his chest until the pain dissipated. 

“Why do I need to tell you things?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips, trying to seem a little more relaxed but he wasn’t doing well. 

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Claire snapped and she started towards the tent again. 

“Hey! Can we just -” he said, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her towards his car. They drove for a little while, getting out of the way of headquarters, and enough room from the camp so Owen could cool off. He was feeling unbelievably frustrated - a mix between his job and Claire’s hotheadedness. 

They stopped a little ways away, the ocean air breathing into skin and still a two hour drive to camp. It took Owen a minute to collect himself, to stop gripping the steering wheel so hard and just bolt out of his seat. Owent got out of the car and paced the ground, kicking a rock off the nearby cliff face and binding his hand tightly into his cap. Claire followed after, marching up to him and standing her ground. “They keep saying I ruined your career! That you had so much -” 

“I ruined my career, not you!” he snapped and Claire jumped. Sucking in a breath before sighing it back out, he looked down at Claire. “You should know better than that. I may not know you like the other doctors, but you’re a smart, independent woman. Why should you be blamed for someone else’s fuck up?” he asked.

“You always say nice things in the worst way possible!” she yelled back and Owen pushed his shoulders back. 

“I’m a soldier, Claire. I live to honour my country and to protect it. If I live without honour, I can’t call myself a soldier. I saved that man’s life by letting you operate on him, because it was the honourable thing to do,” he explained, “I risked everything, knowing I was going against military law because I knew I had to,” he said and there was a softening to Claire - a weakening to her resolve as he saw the water edging at her eyes. “It isn’t your fault but you could have made things a lot worse if you pushed your way into that meeting,” he said and Claire’s chin snapped up, staring Owen down. She was good at that. 

“I’m not a soldier. I’m not used to soldiers and what they have to live up to. I’m sorry if I did anything to worsen things,” she explained, taking a hard swallow as she stepped back from Owen, “and I’m sorry my concern for you gets in your way.” Owen felt the blow to his chest - how she could just spit one sentence at him and he was a goner. She called him out for it and he couldn’t stop her as Claire left for the car. 

Even when she drove off, he watched the ground with his hands bound tightly. There was no use in chasing after her or finding a way to fix it when they were both compromised. Instead, Owen needed time on his own, needed time to cool down and let the air between them become less muddied. No matter the disagreements with one another, Owen still wanted Claire - he was fool in the grasp of a woman that blazed hot and uncontrollable to his wiles. 

Along the trail, Owen comes to a fork in the road, a sign written in Arabic that told him directions to Damascus and local towns that aren’t completely blown away at this point. One pointed towards the docks, and Owen ducked his head. Why was it that Owen found the most unfortunate signs - literal and figurative - that reminded him of how much he fucked up most romantic things in his life? He wasn’t used to being a complete failure at this shit. But then again, he hadn’t had a long term relationship since he was in his mid-twenties. Always short relationships, months or sometimes even nights. He didn’t have the time. 

And when he wanted it - the time wouldn’t allow him room to breathe. It was one of the first times he had regrets over being a soldier. Briefly, but still, some regrets. 

Owen’s phone started ringing in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Alec’s face covering the screen and his name blazened at the top. With that goofy grin and cross-eyed joking face, Owen took a moment to look at his friend for a small amount of comfort. He swiped the phone open and heard his friend on the other end.

“Where are you?” Alec asked on the other end. 

“How was your trip? I’m on a road,” he said and Alec scoffed.

“A crossroad?”

“Nope, just a road. I’m heading back to camp,” he said. 

“Have you seen Zara yet?” Alec asked back quickly, barely paying attention to Owen’s exhaustion. 

“Is that really important right now?” he said, stopping and kicking more stones on the ground. “I just lost my promotion and my salary too,” he complained. 

“Well, you deserved it,” Alec spat back and Owen groaned. He realised he sounded like a pathetic puppy, but he kinda wanted some sympathy. “You’re paying a huge price for that woman,” Alec said and Owen stuttered, trying to come up with something.

“You know I didn’t do it for her,” he said, holding his head high. “I’m a soldier who protects people,” 

“Yes, and ‘people’ was pretty,” Alec laughed and Owen rolled his eyes. 

“The next time I see you I’m going to strangle you with your own necktie, fucking watch me,” Owen said, heading Alec laugh at the other end. Owen kicked at another stone. “Why are you calling me, anyway? I hope you get a massive phone bill,” he snapped. 

“Have you seen Zara?” Alec asked again, and Owen scoffed. 

“You’re paying a huge price for that woman,” Owen said through gritted teeth and hung up the phone. 

It took little time for Owen to call a troop to pick him up. He walked enough to realise he wasn’t getting back to the camp before midnight, so he rationalised his embarrassment and got on with it. He was lucky that Cian answered his phone, and when the afternoon was drawing in, the night sky on the horizon - he arrived in the supply truck. 

Jumping into the passenger side, Owen huffed, fixing his dress uniform as he stared at the young sergeant. 

“You couldn’t have gotten the jeep or better yet, my fucking car?” Owen snapped. He blamed the heat for the hasty reply, but he really wished his ride didn’t smell like the rotten fruits and vegetables they got last week. It felt like it stained the vehicle. 

Cian grimaced as he replied. “It technically isn’t your car, and the last time I saw it, the doctors were all -” 

“Never mind,” Owen waved it off, pointing forwards, “just get back to camp,” he groaned, resting back into the seat. He felt the aching in his feet and it was the first time in a long time where Owen felt pain that wasn’t to do with being a soldier. It was a strange moment of self-awareness. 

It took longer than Owen thought driving with Cian. Although he got a comforting text from Alec, the truck was slow and Cian didn’t go above whatever turtle crawl he called eight miles. By the time they got back to camp, it was already dark, and Owen was exhausted, needing to get to bed within the next hour or so. He was ready to just relax from the day he had. Jumping out, the two soldiers saluted each other.

“Sir.” 

“Thanks Piccolo,” Owen said, letting the moment go. Yet, something nagged at the back of Owen’s mind - one that had been bugging him whenever he looked at Cian the last few weeks. “By the way...stop flirting when you’re here,” Owen called and Cian stopped, standing at attention again. 

“What do you mean?” Owen walked to the first class sergeant and tucked his hands into his pockets. 

“You have a girlfriend.” 

“I’m well aware. Best thing to ever happen to me,” Cian raised his chin, trying to hide a smile that was naturally forming when he spoke of her, “and she knows I’m a flirt. I’m naturally charming sir, but I’d never act on it. If you ever met her, you’d know she could literally kill me for being an idiot. I’m not stupid,” he scoffed. 

“Oh, I’ve met her and I believe you,” he whispered to himself. 

“Plus, I love her, sir. I could never hurt her like that.” 

The words took Owen by surprise and he nodded, impressed with the response. “At ease. Just a warning. I don’t want something to happen when you’re in a foreign country and regret it when you get home.” 

“Thank you sir,” Cian replied with a salute, turning on his heels and making his way to the barracks. Confident in his conviction was a good trait to have. Owen admired it. 

Shaking his head, Owen made his way inside chapel, his room opposite that the office. Their own makeshift living space was feeling more like home as Owen stayed there longer, but he knew he was due home any week now. He was really driving himself away from a place he wanted to stay, but he had no say in the matter. 

Walking inside, he reread the text that Alec sent him. 

_ ‘Reach your hand to the back of the cabinet, since your salary and promotion are lost, try and drink away the memory of it’ _

Owen bent down, looking into the cabinet under the sink, and seeing nothing. Then, he reached inside and felt the long neck of a bottle. Closing his fist around it, he pulled the bottle out and found the wine in his hand. Owen chuckled, swirling it around as he saw the red swish around the glass inside.

The noise distracted him from the wine; rattling of droplets hitting the roof. Rain. Delicate rain turning into heavy drops that hit hard against the window. The entire time he’d been there, he’d seen very little of rain. And outside, it was like an ocean was pouring on top of them. Owen wasn’t able to enjoy the sound of it for long, as he saw Claire quickly rush in through the door, shaking herself off from the rain. When she turned, she seemed shocked to see him. For a split second they stared at one another before Claire turned on her heels heading back towards the door.

“What is it?” Owen said and Claire stopped in her place. She paused, as though she was contemplating something, before she inevitably turned to him, hands behind her back.  

“I wanted some water,” she explained awkwardly.

“Why are you leaving then? Go get some.” Owen moved aside, letting Claire have full access to the bench top and the sink. 

“It looked like you wanted to be alone,” she tried again, but Owen shook his head.

“No, I want to be with you,” “come in,” “Do you want some wine instead?” he asked. She nodded and Owen handed her the bottle. He reached up to the glasses on the shelf, finding one and handing it over to Claire - only to find that she was already drinking from the bottle. When she noticed Owen’s dumbfounded look, Claire stopped drinking and tried to hand the bottle back over. 

“What about you?” she asked and he shook his head.

“Dispatched troops are not allowed to drink,” he explained. 

“Didn’t you take it out to drink it?”

“I was going to, but there’s a witness now,” he whispered and Claire laughed. He liked hearing her laugh like that - one that she couldn’t quite catch to make herself seem cute. Just a normal, natural laugh that was infectious to its core.

“I’m sorry for acting rashly,” Claire said, hugging onto the bottle as she turned to Owen. 

“I was going to apologise,” he said and she shook her head. Her hair was falling in front of her face as she looked down at her feet. Claire leaned on the counter slightly, letting her foot slip from her shoe before slipping it back into place. She was trying to avoid any conversation, but like Owen, he felt that she wanted to speak with him anyway. 

“How did you get here?” Claire asked, and Owen cleared his throat, tucking his hands into his pockets. Walking from the bench to stand across from her, Owen leaned against the structural pillar opposite Claire - being able to see her clearly. 

“I ran, I’m the only person who could get here this quickly,” Owen smirked, only for Claire to return her own. 

“But I saw you getting off the truck,” she replied, sipping at the wine again. The red stained at her lips, pressed away when Claire pursed her lips, tongue licking at the edge. 

“Why ask then?” Owen asked, clearing his throat sharply. 

“I wanted to see the joke you came up with,” she replied and Owen scoffed, shaking his head, “you look good in your dress uniform.” Owen looked up at her, a flush of her cheeks as she sipped at the 

“How did you know it’s a dress uniform?” he asked and Claire chuckled. 

“Oh girls have fantasies about men in uniform, captain.” She was teasing him. A good, honest tease. Owen rubbed the back of his neck as he shift against the pillar - a lazy stature with his shoulder seemingly keeping him upright and leg kicked in front of the other. 

“That’s why I became a soldier,” he joked and Claire scoffed, taking another sip of wine. Every time, a trace of red lined her lips, soaking at the corners and tempting the ever living shit out of him. She could smile, yell, curse or spit, and every time, he’s fall for the way her lips moved. The liquor on her lips didn’t deserve to be there - it took up her lips and squandered its place there. For every second, every ounce of a moment it lingered, it wasted its potential. Claire licked it aside and God, did Owen want to know how it felt to be swept away by that tongue. “Is it good?” he asked, swallowing the rising tension that filled his chest. 

“It’s not bad,” she shrugged, “would you like a drink?” she asked. Owen sucked in a sigh, one that could land him in hot water if he let it go. But he needed to say it. He wanted her to know.

“I wanted to see a movie and have a drink with you,” he said, and it took her by surprise. 

“It could’ve been the perfect date,” she sympathised, taking a moment to herself as she became lost in thought. There was so much about Claire that made Owen intrigued - her mind working in such a refined way, what it must be like for her to lose herself in thought. He wanted to delve into the mind of someone like her. 

The more he thought on her, he realised how much he craved to be next to her - understand the workings of a woman that captivated him from the moment she yelled at him. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she thought, the way she acted despite her feelings - Owen wanted to know every last ounce of a woman like her. Specifically her. Claire Dearing. He had lost to her long ago, and he was a fool for lingering on for so long. But with her right in front of him….he’d be a fool a thousand times over. 

“Did you watch that movie?” he asked and Claire huffed. 

“No.” The shrug in her shoulders told him something he couldn’t decipher - her body still a mystery he had yet to explore. 

“Why not?” he asked and Claire stared off at the rain outside the window. He glanced at it, but the pouring rain meant nothing when she stood solid - not a moment fading away. 

“Because I was meant to watch it with you. I kept seeing the reviews for it everywhere, and it just made me think of you. So I couldn’t bring myself to watch it,” she explained, and Owen fully realised the impact they had on each other. It was fleeting - a moment between them that neither of them could grasp, but had desperately wanted to cling to nonetheless. Everything that Claire said made him realise that although she could be cold and spiteful towards him - rightfully so - everything that happened still meant as much to her as it did to him. He wanted to repay every ounce of hurt and pain he’d placed on her, but no words could do that. 

“You must want this badly.” She was teasing again, the bottle extended in her hand, tauntingly dancing it side to side. Drink it, Owen. And as much as he wanted to drink. He had the most foolish idea of them all. One he had been pushing aside all night. But he was at his limit. He craved it more than the ability to breathe. He’d been strung up and beaten, tortured and burned. This nagging feeling, the one that pressed so hard to his chest, was the most wonderful torture that had him so weak, he fell for the feeling it could give him later.

“I think I found a way to taste it,” he muttered and Claire’s brow furrowed. When her head tilted, hair falling slightly in her face, Owen moved from his spot. He brushed past her hand with the extended bottle, hand at her jaw, and lips went down onto hers.

He was right. 

He had found a way to taste it. A far better way. He made sure it lingered, tasting the wine away only to fall into the grace of her lips, and wonder, if heaven were a place - would it feel as sweet as this moment?

No matter what, in that moment, Owen was indeed - in heaven. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters you read that you don't recognise are original characters from pre-existing stories of mine. If you want any clarification on any characters, their design or stories they're attached to, please let me know.  
> Delays for each chapter, as they take a while to write - sorry in advance!

**Author's Note:**

> All characters you read that you don't recognise are original characters from pre-existing stories of mine. If you want any clarification on any characters, their design or stories they're attached to, please let me know.  
> Delays for each chapter, as they take a while to write - sorry in advance!


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